He opened and closed his fists, testing. Guess some things didn’t change, even with all the modern weaponry he was sure they had available. They had all picked up the habit of wearing these modified mid-forearm gloves in days when Greece dominated the world. Greeks used a bulkier version of them for boxing. As magi, they used them to protect one of the few exposed areas daemons like to hit—the wrists. Each of them designed a different version. All kept the fingers exposed. Some liked spikes, blades, studs, or plain leather on the wrists. He and Ethan had always preferred blades. He smiled, noting the small blades dotting Ethan’s wrist like dorsal fins. Ethan stopped mid-motion when he met Dakar’s gaze. He peeled off the sphairai and threw them on his bed next to a leather coat. “New sphairai?” Dakar asked. “Yeah. They’re a little stiff.” “Find any more vipers out there?” “Just one. Sliced it to bits. I hate those fuckers.” He half smiled. “You ready to tell me why you’ve been giving me the hairy eyeball since we picked you up?
