“Touch,” I said.
“Damn,” she swore. “That was really fast.”
“I’m just getting started,” I said, smiling.
Ephraim scowled.
“Again,” he said.
Without waiting for me to acknowledge I was ready, Erin brought her giant sword swinging around at my head. I got the katana up to block the blow, then swept her lead leg. She was planted firmly, but the attack was just unexpected enough to break her stance. As she fought to keep her balance, I sidekicked her in the shoulder, knocking her backwards.
I pressed the advantage quickly, slapping her sword out of her hands with my own, and then thrusting forward, stopping my blade an inch from her throat.
“Holy shit!” she cried.
I withdrew and resumed a ready position. Erin’s face was red now, both from exertion and fear. She knew I could have killed her.
Ephraim continued to look nonplussed. The cocky bastard acted as though this weren’t a highly impressive display of swordsmanship.
Erin retrieved her sword. She dropped into a ready stance, but she did not look at all confident.
“You okay?” I asked.
As much as I wanted my asshole brother to know I was better than he could even dream of being, I didn’t want to hurt Erin. I liked her, and she was nice to me.
“Sure,” she said, not sounding like she meant it. “That was just a little close.”
“Sorry, my bad,” I said. “I’ll make sure not to aim for your head or neck again.”
Erin nodded, but she didn’t look comforted. I threw her my most reassuring smile.
“Again,” Ephraim ordered.
“Damn, Bro, you are a serious hardass,” I said.
Erin moved in. I decided not to be as mean this time. I circled her, keeping my guard up and letting her look for an opening.
Unfortunately, she went for a fairly standard maneuver. She feinted a thrust, then brought her sword up for a high blow. I parried it easily, then stuck a sidekick into her solar plexus that folded her in half and drove all the wind from her lungs. She landed in a heap on the mat, gasping for air.
I walked over and offered her a hand up. She waved it off as her lungs fought to breathe again. Then she sat up and looked at me, still huffing.
“Jesus, Sassy,” she said. “I know you’ve got unnatural speed, but I’ve never seen anyone that fast. You’re not just an excellent fighter, you’re superhuman. I don’t know what the hell I can teach you in a sparring exercise.”
I stuck out my hand again. This time she took it, and I pulled her to her feet.
“It’s no wonder you were able to survive the first assassination attempt alone,” Erin continued. “Your speed must have counteracted the demon’s powers.”
To be honest, I was a little freaked about that. I’d figured I could beat Erin because she was using a big, clumsy broadsword, while I had the katana. But if she was right, there was more to it than that. I’d always had fast hands. In all my tournaments, my backfist was too quick for my opponents to deal with. Was that because I could move with supernatural speed?
“Very impressive,” Ephraim said, making it clear he didn’t think it was impressive at all. “But Erin is an ordinary human.”
“Ordinary?” Erin said. “I may not have powers, but I am far from ordinary.”
I smiled. Erin definitely had a sassy streak. It looked good on her.
“Be that as it may,” Ephraim said, “Ms. Kincaide is Nephilim. That gives her natural, enhanced combat awareness. That she bested you is not as amazing as she would like to believe. Let’s see how she does against another of her kind.”
I cocked my head and threw him a condescending smile. Was he serious?
“Who?” I asked. “You?”
“Indeed,” he replied. “Let’s even the playing field, Ms. Kincaide. If you’re such an accomplished fighter, you won’t mind squaring off against another Nephilim.”
Oh, hell, yes. This arrogant prick had been on my ass since the moment we’d met. Now he was finally giving me the chance to mop the floor with him. I would have agreed if he’d said I had to fight him straightjacketed.
“Okay, macho man,” I said. “I’ll show you what I do at the donjon to boys like you who think a girl can’t hang with them.”
He stepped onto the mat without taking the sword. I snorted.
“Oh, you don’t want to swordfight?” I said. “You just going straight for man-to-man, bareknuckle brawling?”
“Man-to-woman,” he said, making sure I understood it was an insult. “If I beat you with a sword, you can debate all you want about weapon comparisons and deficiencies. But hand-to-hand is just you versus me.”
“In other words,” I said to Erin as I rolled my eyes, “he don’t wanna risk putting that big, slow blade up against my lightning-fast katana. This ain’t about leveling the playing field for me. He wants to make sure he don’t have a disadvantage.”
I sheathed my sword and handed it to Erin. Then I turned to face Big Brother Asshole.
“Okay, Captain Hardass,” I said. “We can go without your disadvantage. Meaning, I’ve already won the first round. You know you can’t beat me with the sword you said I had to use. Now, I’m gonna prove the weapon don’t matter. You can’t stand in the ring with me for even one full minute.”
“I look forward to feeding you that taunt,” he said.
We squared off, both raising our guard and staring the other down. I listened to the sound of my heart beating, the soft rustle of my breathing. Quietly, I centered my chi and waited. I wanted to be in perfect balance when this dipshit made his move.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Come get some,” I replied.
He moved towards me – not fast, not attacking. He just came closer, looking for an opening. He must have thought I was going to strike first. A lot of times, that was my instinct. If this had been a tournament or a real fight, I’d have been all up in his face before he had time to draw a breath. But he’d pissed me off. I was going to make him try something and then punish him for it.
It didn’t take long. He telegraphed his strike easily, pushing forward, putting all his weight on his front leg. Then he tried to drive a straight jab into my face. It was such a predictable, boxer move.
I slipped the punch easily and pushed his clumsy attack away with my lead arm, spinning him. His whole back was open to me. I squared my shoulders and drove my best reverse punch into his kidney, twisting my hips to give it extra power.
Pain exploded in my knuckles and rocketed up my arm. It felt like I’d just punched a dump truck.
I cried out and pulled my hand back. Ephraim whirled and cracked me across the forehead with what felt like a baseball bat. I went down hard.
“Jesus Christ, Silverman!” Erin shouted as stars danced in my eyes.
I shook my head to clear it, and he came into focus. Against my will, my jaw fell open at the sight of him. His skin had turned to metal. He looked like the Silver Surfer.
“Damn it, Silverman, what were you thinking?” Erin shouted. “You might have broken her wrist!”
I looked at my hand. The knuckles were already swelling. My wrist felt like shit too. I couldn’t tell if I’d sprained or broken anything. All I knew was it hurt like hell.
“You are overconfident and arrogant,” Ephraim said to me, standing over me like some sort of comic book villain. “You were so certain you could beat me, you didn’t even stop to consider that I might have powers of which you were unaware. You knew I am Nephilim, but you didn’t think I could be different than you.
“As a result, you attempted an attack that was easy for me to repel. Had I been a real opponent, you would be dead now. I would have finished you while you were lying on the ground, holding your hand like a schoolgirl.
“This is not a video game, Cecily. You don’t get more lives if something goes wrong on this mission. There are real consequences if you make a mistake.
“The dragon has
powers you cannot conceive. He is a crafty opponent, who has survived for three-and-a-half centuries. If you face him when overconfident, if you believe he cannot possibly beat you, your immunity to magic will be meaningless. He will carve you into small pieces and snack on your remains.”
That son of a bitch. He did this on purpose? He set me up? I got to my feet.
“You cowardly little shit,” I said. “You may have broken my hand. You may have sprained my wrist. And for what? To teach me a lesson? How the fuck am I supposed to fight this dragon with my hand in a cast?
“Or maybe that was your plan all along, you jealous, little shitbag. You’re sad that Daddy wanted me to slay the dragon instead of you? So you decided to take me out. ‘Oh, no. Sassy can’t fight the dragon now. I guess I’ll have to do it.’
“Well, fine. Go fight him on your own. I hope he lights your ass up like a marshmallow at a campfire. You deserve it. Me? I’m out of here.”
I snatched my katana from Erin with my good hand and slung it over my shoulder. Then I picked up my bag.
“Sassy, wait,” Erin said.
“No, fuck this shit. Fuck The Order, and fuck this sanctimonious pindick. You can all burn for all I care. I didn’t want any of this shit in the first place.
I stormed out. I could feel Ephraim’s smug, self-satisfied grin on my back. I didn’t care. He’d gotten what he wanted. D’Krisch Mk’Rai would have fun roasting him.
Thirteen
A s soon as I got out of The Order’s HQ, I hoofed it to a nearby bus stop. Fortunately, their complex was hidden inside the city, so I still had access to public transport. I didn’t fancy trying to call a cab or a Lyft. I didn’t want to wait for the ride to arrive.
When I was safely aboard the bus and headed the hell away from those assholes, I dug inside my backpack. One of the side effects of being a martial artist was carrying rudimentary first aid items in the event of an injury. I got out one of those chemical packs that gets cold when you smack it and put it on my knuckles and metacarpals. Then I wrapped the thing in place with an Ace bandage that I also used to immobilize my wrist.
People on the bus kept giving me side-eye glances, no doubt wondering what was up with this injured chick with the sword. I didn’t offer any explanations, and when I met their stares, they turned away.
My hand hurt like hell. The knuckles smarted both from the aftershock of the impact and from whatever damage I’d done to the bones and tendons. Likewise, my wrist throbbed. I was pretty sure I’d sprained it. It was a good thing my form was perfect. If I’d had my wrist bent at all, I’d have broken it.
God damn, I was feeling stupid. I should have known that jealous, little shit was setting me up. I should have used my damned head before stepping on the mat with him. He knew how good I was. He’d seen it. He’d known exactly how to trick me into hurting myself.
And I’d fallen for it anyway. I’d let some micro-penis man bait me into making a mistake. Stupid.
I pulled out my phone and called up Felicia’s number. I started texting her, but it was hard. I had to do it one-handed, and I kept making mistakes. Even the predictive-text function didn’t help. At last, I had to set the phone in my lap and peck out each letter with my index finger before hitting send.
Need to see you, I wrote. Meet me at Java Jive?
I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for a reply. It finally came.
Sure. Now? Felicia sent.
I checked the map overhead. I was ten stops away from where I’d have to change lines.
30 minutes, I texted.
Her response came back in less than a minute.
Cool. Is everything ok?
No. Not a damn thing was okay.
Not really, I sent. Can’t talk now, tho. Tell you about it when I see you.
I put my phone away after that. Felicia would surely try to drag things out of me, and I was not interested in that. First, it was too damned hard to text with one hand. Second, I needed to be watching my surroundings. For all I knew The Order would send someone after me, or The Guild of the Blade would take another shot at killing me. Down a hand, I needed all my focus to spot danger.
It was a long-damned ride.
Forty minutes later, I was sitting across from a worried-looking Felicia. I had a tall cup of overpriced coffee in front of me, and Felicia was drinking some weird tea thing that was supposed to be good for your brain and digestive system but looked like a Cosmopolitan.
“What happened to your hand?” she asked.
As briefly but as thoroughly as I could, I told her what happened – how The Order had been keeping important shit from me, how Ephraim was a jealous, little prick, and how he’d set me up to injure myself. Felicia was suitably nonplussed.
“What a typical man-tactic,” she said. “He knows he can’t beat you straight up, so he pulls a stupid stunt to get you injure yourself.”
“Yeah, all so he can ‘teach me a lesson,’” I commented.
“Right! Fucking Small Penis Syndrome. ‘Oh, I’m a man, so of course, I’m right. Here let me show you what a fool you are, Little Girl.’ Piece of shit.”
“Right?” I said. “And now, I’m fucked up. How the hell am I supposed to fight a dragon one-handed?”
Felicia grimaced. She stared at the ice pack, which wasn’t that cold anymore.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
Good question. I hadn’t really looked since I wrapped it up.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Maybe we should check it out.”
I nodded and undid the bandage. Then I unwrapped it and took off the pack. My fingers and backhand were red from leaving the ice on too long. Cautiously, I stretched my fingers and wrist. The pain was achy, dull. Damn but it hurt, but it wasn’t hot and intense.
“I don’t think anything’s broken,” I said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Felicia replied.
“Yeah, but it hurts pretty bad,” I said. “I bet I sprained my wrist.”
“That little shit,” Felicia commented. “So what are you gonna do now?”
“I quit.”
“What?”
“I quit,” I said again. “I walked out. First of all, I can’t fight a dragon with only one hand. Magical immunity or otherwise, I’m not interested in walking into a fight that ends up with me dead. And that’s where I’m gonna be if I have to take on this fire-breathing asshole with only one hand.
“Second, you have to trust the people on your side. Ephraim hates me. I don’t know what his problem is. As far as I can tell, he’s mad Daddy wanted me to kill the dragon instead of him. But it doesn’t matter. He hates me, and he’s gonna put me in danger if I try to team up with him.
“Third, he wants the job so damned bad? Let him have it. None of this was my business in the first place. I was going along fine, living my life, before they involved me in their shit. I’m perfectly happy to get back to it.”
Felicia nodded. Her eyes told me she didn’t completely agree. I didn’t understand that, since, the last time we’d talked, she didn’t seem to want me to go through with the whole dragon-slaying plan.
But Felicia had that do-gooder streak in her. She had to save the world if she were given a choice. She didn’t press the issue, though. Whether it was because she was in love with me and didn’t want to see me get hurt, or if it was because she didn’t want an argument, she let it drop. I was relieved.
“Sassy,” someone said.
I whirled around, startled. There was Ash, standing there, looking all sappy and regretful. He’d changed out of his Order uniform and was wearing black jeans, a linen shirt, and black, leather jacket. My heart started hammering in my chest. Oh, shit, this could not be good.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, hitting me with those glittering, black, puppy-dog eyes.
“Who’s this?” Felicia asked.
“No, you don’t,” I said, ignoring Felicia.
<
br /> “Sassy,” he said, “this is really important. I need to speak with you.”
“It’s not important,” I said. “And even if it is, I’m out.”
“Listen, I don’t know who you are,” Felicia said, standing up, “but I think you should leave. My friend doesn’t want to speak with you. If you can’t respect that, I’ll call the cops.”
God bless, Felicia. She really was the best.
“Hi,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m Ashrael Shinoch. Most people call me ‘Ash.’”
“He’s a sex-demon,” I said. “He tends to leave that part out.”
“What?” Felicia said.
“Sassy, for God’s sake,” Ash said, his voice hushed. “You are breaking The Veil. You cannot talk about these sorts of things with people not in the magical world, especially in a public place like a coffee shop.”
I smirked at him. He was cute when he was worried. Despite having that dark, Mediterranean skin, he flushed crimson in his cheeks when he was upset.
“Well, sorry, Ash,” I said. “I didn’t know a damn thing about The Veil when I told Felicia about the demon that attacked me the other night. And I told her right here in this very coffee shop. I also wasn’t too hip to The Veil when I told her about the second attack and all the other bullshit you people have laid on me. She knows everything.”
Those pretty eyes flicked to Felicia. She smiled, although not quite as wickedly as I would have. It didn’t matter. Ash blanched when he found out Felicia was in on The Big Secret.
“Sassy,” he said, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Yeah, I told the person I trust the most in the world what’s going on with me. Now get on up out of here, Ash. Ephraim may have injured me, but I’m right-handed. I can still whup your ass.”
He blinked twice at me. Then he looked around to see if any of the bored hipsters in the joint were paying attention. They weren’t. They were all lost in their faux deep conversations or philosophy books.
“All right, look,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to you. It’s really important.”
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