“Okay, first of all, respect the gun, but don’t be scared of it.” The only person I’d ever taught to shoot was Kori, back when we were still just kids. And nothing had ever scared Kori, least of all guns and the power they lent her. “Fear undermines your confidence and ruins your concentration. The gun isn’t going to do anything you don’t make it do.”

“Okay, but what about the rules?” Sera still looked nervous. “Aren’t there some rules?”

“Several. At the gun range—ours is homemade, but it still counts—you always keep your gun pointed downrange. At the target. If you never aim it at anything else, you can never shoot anything else. And you’ll notice that downrange for us also means ‘away from the house.’ That’s very important.” Behind our target trees was a small hill, perfect for catching stray bullets before they could hit anything else.

Sera nodded, still holding her gun, elbows locked, lower lip between her teeth.

I took the gun from her and set it down. She needed to relax. “Outside of the gun range, there are two kinds of rules. The first kind is the law, which tells us not to shoot people. Or even threaten to shoot people. Those rules are optional, depending on the situation and how many witnesses are likely to testify against you.”

Her eyes widened, and when the cloud retreated, she squinted at me. “You’re serious?”

“You’re not learning for sport, Sera. You’re learning to shoot because you understand that at some point—probably soon—you may have to kill someone. I don’t think you’d ever do that unless you had to, but you need to be aware, before you pull the trigger, that witnesses may not always understand that necessity. Sometimes that’s reason to hesitate. Sometimes it’s not.”

She nodded, obviously thinking it over. “And the other kind of rules?”

“Common sense. Draw first, or die. To do that, you have to keep your weapons—not just your gun—accessible at all times. Don’t button a jacket over your holster.”

“I don’t have a holster. Or a jacket.” Because she was still borrowing clothes.

“We’ll get you both. Next, never let anyone else see your thoughts on your face or in your bearing. If you’re obviously scared to fire, your opponent won’t take you seriously. In fact, he’ll probably just shoot you.”

“Okay...”

“The rest of the rules are easy. Never shoot the good guys, unless they become bad guys. Never shoot until you have clear line of sight, unless you have no other choice. If someone fires at you or someone you care about, shoot to kill. Don’t hesitate.”

“Shoot to kill. Got it.” But she didn’t look like she had that. Not yet. “Anything else?”

Wind rustled leaves on the trees behind our paper target, as if the woods had advice for her, too, and it might be better than mine. “Yeah. Personal weapons have a hierarchy. Guns trump knives every time, no matter how fast you can throw, slash or stab. Kori will tell you otherwise, but she’s wrong.” Unproven, at least. “Knives trump fists, unless you know someone who can punch through solid flesh. But Julia Tower’s weapon of choice trumps them all.”

“What’s that?”

“The truth.”

Sera frowned. “Are you being melodramatic? Or is that a joke? I don’t know you well enough to tell the difference.”

I wanted to change that. But it wasn’t the time.

“It’s neither. Julia has information you want. I know, because she always has information someone wants. That’s her thing. And it’ll be worse for you, because she knows more about the people you come from than you ever will. But if you let her start talking, you’re screwed from the start. She can make you cry with the truth faster than I can make her bleed with a bullet.”

“Good to know.” Though she didn’t look like she really believed me, and if that was the case—if no one had ever said anything to her that had ripped her heart right out of her chest—then I envied her.

“You ready to try that now?” I glanced at her gun.

She nodded, and this time she looked more sure.

“Okay. Pick it up, finger off the trigger.”

Sera blew a strand of hair out of her face, then picked up her gun. Her grip was nervous, but steady.

“Two hands. Like this.” I stepped behind her and lifted her left hand, showing her how to cradle the grip of her gun to steady her aim. I could have demonstrated with Kori’s 9 mm, but...I wanted to touch her.

“Don’t lock your elbows, or the recoil will throw your arms up. Let them absorb some of the force.” I slid my hands over her arms, testing her stance, glad she wore short sleeves, so I could feel her skin.

“Like this?” she whispered. I was so close I could feel her body heat through my clothes. Through hers.

“Just like that.” I whispered, too, then took that final step so that her back was pressed against my chest. I had no reason to still be touching her, but she made no objection and I couldn’t resist. “Now click off the safety. It’s that switch by your thumb.”

She started to turn the gun around to look for the switch, but I stopped her with a little pressure against her hand. “Always aim downrange, remember? Just feel for the switch. It’s there.”

Sera found the switch and pushed it with her thumb. “It’s off,” she whispered, and that time there was an exhalation on the end, smooth and soft, and I inhaled with her, breathing in the scent of her soap and shampoo, and beneath that, her skin.