“The symbol you see here is a double helix,” Hosea explained. He ran a finger along the etchings as he spoke. “If you don’t know, a double helix is what we call the shape of life.”

He twirled the tube, making the ladders dance. They didn’t resemble any lifeform I’d seen before. Still, I was mesmerized, tracing their movement back and forth.

“Inside each of us are trillions of these strands, encoded with genetic information. They’re the building blocks of everything alive. Man, beast and bird.”

Voltaire scoffed. “Do you mean for us to believe that silver bat is alive?”

“Believe what you want,” Hosea said. “But no, it’s not alive. It is encrypted with life. My DNA, to be exact.”

“Your what?” He had completely given up his pretense of prior knowledge. More, his patch was lifted up, revealing a perfectly good eye beneath.

“Deoxyribonucleic acid: DNA,” Hosea repeated. “I could explain, but it’s easier to show you.”

He closed his fist around the weapon, causing it to awaken. In a flash, the blunt tube became a needle-sharp spear. The bandits backed away. Voltaire, however, moved closer, pressing me beneath his foot. Hosea twirled the spear skillfully, dipping it on either side of his body, before demonstrating its ability as a bow. Birds scattered as a tree on the edge of the clearing exploded into dust.

Voltaire cursed. He grabbed my blouse and pulled me up, my back to his chest. As I’d guessed, we were the same height. I made a complete shield between him and Hosea.

“Kick your weapon over here, English, or I’ll kill her where she stands.”

“No,” Hosea said.

“I won’t ask again, your weapon for her life.” His words hissed in my ear.

“My weapon won’t do you any good,” Hosea replied, calmly. “That’s what I’ve been telling you. It’s mine. My double helix, my DNA, my life, my weapon. It only responds to my touch.”

“Then what good is it to me? I’ll kill her, then you along with her.”

“I can get you more,” Hosea said. “One for yourself and five others. We’ll encode them with whomever of your men you choose.” He glanced around the circle. The bandits shifted, excited by the possibility.

“Our own weapons, just like yours?” Voltaire asked.

“Not exactly the same,” Hosea explained, patiently. “Everyone’s DNA is unique, and their weapons will be too.”

“Will they be as powerful?”

“Every Helix is exactly as powerful as its wielder.”

“As powerful or not, English! Yes, or no?”

Hosea hesitated. “If you let me train you—yes.”

“Not a chance,” Voltaire scoffed.