Chara Knife Novels & Stories

He raised his two hands up, showing some form of surrender, but I knew better, I wasn't stupid to take his lack of weapon for his surrender or weakness. He cocked his head sideways grinning like an idiot which I know he isn't. “What will you do dear Lora. Fillet me like salmon.” “I'm serious” “So am I.” He gave me a cocky smile that twisted my stomach. And continued. “That knife is Henckels. Eight inch chef’s knife. Sharp enough to cut through bone if you knew what you were doing.” He took one more step closer and my breath hitched, it felt like I was slowly closing the lid to my own coffin.

"You don't have to say anything. I know." Taking a deep breath, Lucinda closed her eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. For some minutes, she remained that way, enjoying the calm, the peace, until she opened them again and said, "I'm ready." Then she reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled out a dagger, placing it into Kira's right hand. Kira looked down at the dagger and saw that it wasn't like any normal dagger she had seen. This one's handle was dark, old, and carved with strange markings, and the blade was milky white, almost bone-like, smooth, and slightly curved, the edge looking very sharp.

She was absorbing. I stepped to the right side of the room. “This wall is knives. Every type you can think of. Combat blades, switchblades, karambits, trench knives, double-edged, spring-loaded, throwing knives. Most people don’t realize how often these end up being the backup when guns fail. Knife throw is an art in itself.” Gianna glanced over them, her eyes narrowing as she took in the polished blades and serrated edges. She reached out to touch one but paused, hesitant. The thing looks weird in her soft, delicate hands, not gonna lie.

Charlotte pushed the knife in and drew blood, and Carla’s eyes widened when she realized how close to death she was. She trailed the knife around and stuck it carefully into a part of her shoulder, drawing more blood. It was slight, but Carla began to cry, realizing her friend had now changed in so many ways. “I’ll talk,” she croaked. “Please, please I’ll talk.” Charlotte removed the knife and reduced the tightness of her grip a little, but she still held her in a position that made her unable to fight back. “I’m listening.”

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The court moved quickly, clearing space in the center of the chamber. The duel circle formed beneath the towering pillars of bone and stone. Adrian stepped into the open space. Across from him, Kharvek unsheathed a massive curved blade. “Try not to die too quickly,” the demon mocked. Adrian said nothing. The duel began. Kharvek attacked first. The demon moved with surprising speed for his size, his blade crashing down with enough force to crack the stone floor. Adrian twisted aside. Steel shrieked against steel as he raised his sword to deflect the next strike.

“I brought something for you to see.” Ronan’s head lifts a fraction. Mara arrives like a shadow, eyes already warily resting on Ronan. Kieran nods to his attendants. They set down a long, narrow chest and step back. He opens it himself. Inside rests a brace of throwing knives with pale handles, each inlaid with a smoky thread of metal like a lightning bolt frozen mid-flight. “Silversteel,” he says softly. “Flexible, balanced, takes an edge like a promise. I had these set aside when I heard you were studying knife throwing.”

She stalked over and picked up a rusty but wicked-looking scythe. Lizzy’s neck felt clammy, and she stepped back. You’re in Wyoming. Not in Lagos. Not now. Never again. Lizzy stared at a familiar-looking weapon. Charlie followed her gaze. “This is a machete. It’s actually an East African panga. I ordered it online.” “Why?” Lizzy said in horror.

“I didn’t break a rib. I’m fine.” Chantal poked and felt around, and Gage swore soundly. “Hold still.” “You’re a sadist.” His jaw ticked as she felt along each rib. Happy with her examination, she rose and checked on their clothes. Her eyes fell on Gage’s sheathed knife, and Chantal reached out. “Careful! That blade is sharp. That’s a Ka-Bar.” “Isn’t that what SF soldiers use?” “Yes—It’s a U.S. Marine Corps Fighting Knife. Mine’s not a standard issue.”