After my target is set up, Titus takes some time to explain judging distance in relation to what my goal is. Making a close-enough strike to slice skin is one thing, but I’d need to be closer if I want to use the whip to coil around an arm or a leg.
I’m instructed. I’m ready. The whip feels right in my hand again.
Of course, it takes me a good forty minutes before I can even land a solid strike. I’m often too close or too far away, so I’m pouring sweat when I manage to finally take a chunk of plastic off the dummy’s left shoulder.
“Excellent,” Titus praises, and he orders me to start again.
Another hour later, I can barely hold my right arm up. Although I refuse to quit, I’m grateful when Titus calls it a day.
I immediately collapse on the floor to lay on my back, feet planted to get my breath back. The whip handle is still held securely in my hand. Titus rummages through his duffel again, and I turn to watch him. He pulls out a few things I don’t recognize, then brings them over to me.
When he sits on the floor opposite me, I go ahead and hoist myself up to see what he has.
“The whip is yours to keep.” This means Carrick is gifting it to me permanently. I’m shocked.
He hands over an item, and I take it to study. It’s made of brown leather, two simple strips about three inches wide. They interloop with one another and each has a thick button snap that can be released to open one of the loops. One loop is much larger than the other.
“What is it?” I query.
“A holster,” he replies. “You can thread the small loop around a waist belt at your hip, then the other around the coiled whip. You just need to make sure you coil it in a way so your handle is situated to easily grab.”
He picks up the whip I set on the floor, loops it for me, then demonstrates the correct way to secure it so the fall and handle are secured tightly with the leather and the handle is angled in a way for me to easily reach it.
“You can also wear it cross-body style if you want, but it takes far more time to release it. Remember, seconds can be the difference between life and death. I recommend the hip holster.”
I nod, eagerly anticipating having my weapon at the ready.
But then Titus bursts my bubble. “But you can’t walk around Seattle with a whip on your hip for constant protection. I’m afraid it will only do you good going into a known battle.”
And just like that, I realize I’ve chosen the wrong weapon. I should have just gone with an iron dagger.
Picking the whip up, I hold the iron handle and rub my thumb along the raised rose carvings. It feels so damn right, like it belongs to me.
That’s when inspiration strikes. “Wait a minute,” I say as I scramble up from the floor. I dash back into the main workout room, grab my backpack, and return to Titus.
I plop down opposite him, open the bag, and dump out the contents. I don’t even think about being embarrassed when a tampon rolls out.
Titus watches as I take the leather holster loops and unsnap the smaller one to release it. I thread it through a carabiner clip on the right side of the bag that sits about level with where the shoulder strap connects to the bottom. After I coil the whip, I slip it inside the top of my backpack and don’t secure the top. Instead, I let the flap lay loosely. I pull the handle out, let it hang down the side, and secure it with the leather holster held by the carabiner.
Proudly, I hold up my invention to Titus. “I’ll have to get a new backpack, of course. One that has a drawstring opening on top so I can pull the whip out quickly, but this gives me access to the handle and lets me conceal what it is.”
Titus’ eyebrows rise before he laughs heartily. “That’s brilliant.”
“Thanks,” I exclaim, feeling accomplished.
“Another reason you should become an annihilator,” he says in that deep voice that sounds like an earthquake in his chest when he talks.
I blink in surprise. “Because I can holster a whip to a backpack?”
“Because you’re sharp-witted and clever,” he replies. “Add your fighting skills, which are coming along very well, and you’d sail through the Academy and the gauntlet.”
I’m intrigued. “The gauntlet?”
Titus brings his knees up, plants his feet onto the wooden floor, and leans back on his palms. It causes all the muscles in his arms to ripple and lock tight. “The gauntlet is an incredibly difficult test you have to pass after you graduate from the academy. But with the wits you have, I’m sure you’d ace it.”