little head tilt granting Leo temporary command status. Very temporary. Eli and Leo both shifted their attention to me and I was about to speak when something changed in the air. Eli shouted, “Jane!”
I threw myself to the floor, twisting my body into a horizontal roll, taking the fall on shoulder and outer foot. Hearing my shoe crack the wood. Smelling Gee DiMercy. Feeling a sword slice the air beside my face.
I’m being attacked.
I rolled behind the metal bleachers.
Attacked by Leo’s Mercy Blade.
Ambush hunter!
Beast shouted. Her fury flamed, an adrenaline rush of heat blazing through me and away, out through my hand on the floor.
Gone.
Every hint of her speed and strength flooded out of me in an instant. Which was wrong, so very wrong. It was such a shock that I nearly fell. Beast took over, shoving both hands to the floor, catching my balance, my feet sliding up under me in a move that was pure cat, but . . . still off somehow. As if pained.
And the Mercy Blade was attacking me.
Why?
I felt as much as saw Eli toss me his sword. My right hand lurched up and snatched the sword out of the air. The hilt slammed into my palm, and my fingers closed over it. Instantly I recognized it. The grip perfect for my hand.
My
sword. Not Eli’s.
Instead of forcing a partial change on me, or making time slow and bubble so we could get inside Gee’s reach, Beast snarled and drew in tight, deep within, sitting, hunched, shivering. Her inaction divided my attention, for a fraction of a moment.
Clumsy, I parried a cut—rude by vamp standards—and bounded to my feet, sliding left and cutting right, an ungainly backhand cut before finding the circular form of La Destreza, also known as the Spanish Circle form of sword fighting. I spun my sword in a circle around me, backing to the wall to protect my flank. As I adjusted to the shelter offered by brick and mortar, my sword flashed left to right and right to left, steel clanging on steel, ringing bright and sharp on the air, always in an arc, the blade encompassing an oval around my body. But I wasn’t wearing fighting leathers and my jacket was too tight across the shoulders for full range of motion.
And weirdly my left palm burned, the one that had been scanned earlier. My empty hand felt as if I were holding a red-hot branding iron.
Inside me, I felt Beast lift her left paw and shake it. She growled in anger. Screamed in fury. Finally Beast’s strength and speed touched me, adrenaline pumping into my blood, far too slowly, but damping the weird pain and making me faster than human. Nearly as fast as Gee. But
nearly
wasn’t good enough, because Gee wasn’t human either.
The Mercy Blade was an Anzu, birdlike beings once worshipped as storm gods. He had centuries of fighting experience and two long swords to my one. They sketched a cage of death around him that made my weapon useless. My body bladed, I slid my hand into my false pocket and pulled the silver-plated, steel-edged vamp-killer, a shorter blade than usual.
Seeing my new weapon, Gee rotated his blades even faster, an inhuman speed of glinting, blurred steel. His swords moved faster and faster, a flashing light all around him, our blades clanging, the scent of excitement from the spectators rising on the vamp and Anzu-scented air. Despite myself, I laughed, a low growl of soft sound. Within me, Beast’s four paws were pulled close in beneath her, asnarl on her face, her killing teeth showing. The growl in my laughter was hers.
The Circle was based on rotation, body angle, geometry, and foot placement, and my dancing shoes weren’t giving me purchase on the slick floor. The mats were too far to reach. Alive, that is. But then I didn’t intend to play fair. Though there were no rules in the Duel Sang—the Blood Challenge of the Mithrans—there was protocol and a long history of expectation. Cheating was my best weapon, but cheating only worked once.
Gee shifted his feet into an advanced move, one sword still
I threw myself to the floor, twisting my body into a horizontal roll, taking the fall on shoulder and outer foot. Hearing my shoe crack the wood. Smelling Gee DiMercy. Feeling a sword slice the air beside my face.
I’m being attacked.
I rolled behind the metal bleachers.
Attacked by Leo’s Mercy Blade.
Ambush hunter!
Beast shouted. Her fury flamed, an adrenaline rush of heat blazing through me and away, out through my hand on the floor.
Gone.
Every hint of her speed and strength flooded out of me in an instant. Which was wrong, so very wrong. It was such a shock that I nearly fell. Beast took over, shoving both hands to the floor, catching my balance, my feet sliding up under me in a move that was pure cat, but . . . still off somehow. As if pained.
And the Mercy Blade was attacking me.
Why?
I felt as much as saw Eli toss me his sword. My right hand lurched up and snatched the sword out of the air. The hilt slammed into my palm, and my fingers closed over it. Instantly I recognized it. The grip perfect for my hand.
My
sword. Not Eli’s.
Instead of forcing a partial change on me, or making time slow and bubble so we could get inside Gee’s reach, Beast snarled and drew in tight, deep within, sitting, hunched, shivering. Her inaction divided my attention, for a fraction of a moment.
Clumsy, I parried a cut—rude by vamp standards—and bounded to my feet, sliding left and cutting right, an ungainly backhand cut before finding the circular form of La Destreza, also known as the Spanish Circle form of sword fighting. I spun my sword in a circle around me, backing to the wall to protect my flank. As I adjusted to the shelter offered by brick and mortar, my sword flashed left to right and right to left, steel clanging on steel, ringing bright and sharp on the air, always in an arc, the blade encompassing an oval around my body. But I wasn’t wearing fighting leathers and my jacket was too tight across the shoulders for full range of motion.
And weirdly my left palm burned, the one that had been scanned earlier. My empty hand felt as if I were holding a red-hot branding iron.
Inside me, I felt Beast lift her left paw and shake it. She growled in anger. Screamed in fury. Finally Beast’s strength and speed touched me, adrenaline pumping into my blood, far too slowly, but damping the weird pain and making me faster than human. Nearly as fast as Gee. But
nearly
wasn’t good enough, because Gee wasn’t human either.
The Mercy Blade was an Anzu, birdlike beings once worshipped as storm gods. He had centuries of fighting experience and two long swords to my one. They sketched a cage of death around him that made my weapon useless. My body bladed, I slid my hand into my false pocket and pulled the silver-plated, steel-edged vamp-killer, a shorter blade than usual.
Seeing my new weapon, Gee rotated his blades even faster, an inhuman speed of glinting, blurred steel. His swords moved faster and faster, a flashing light all around him, our blades clanging, the scent of excitement from the spectators rising on the vamp and Anzu-scented air. Despite myself, I laughed, a low growl of soft sound. Within me, Beast’s four paws were pulled close in beneath her, asnarl on her face, her killing teeth showing. The growl in my laughter was hers.
The Circle was based on rotation, body angle, geometry, and foot placement, and my dancing shoes weren’t giving me purchase on the slick floor. The mats were too far to reach. Alive, that is. But then I didn’t intend to play fair. Though there were no rules in the Duel Sang—the Blood Challenge of the Mithrans—there was protocol and a long history of expectation. Cheating was my best weapon, but cheating only worked once.
Gee shifted his feet into an advanced move, one sword still
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