The Dark of the Moon

The man in Sebastian’s grip was like a rabbit in a snare: tense with fear and too frightened to struggle. The other licked his lips and danced from one foot to the other, brandishing his old dagger in what he thought was a menacing display of skill. Instead, Sebastian saw where his balance could be thrown, how his fingers held the dagger like a dinner fork—easily knocked aside; how a quick duck and a sweeping kick would be enough to completely baffle the man who thought a blade alone was enough to appear dangerous.

Neither stood a chance at besting Sebastian, even on their best day.


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