He swung his stick up and down in a perfect arc, aiming for her right wrist. Jez blocked easily with her own stick and felt the shock as wood clashed with wood. She instantly changed her grip and tried for a trap, but he whipped his stick out of the way and was facing her again as if he'd never moved in the first place.
He smiled at her.
He's right. He's gotten better. A small chill went through Jez, and for the first time she worried about her ability to beat him.
Because I have to do it without killing him, she thought. She wasn't at all sure he had the same concern about not killing her.
"You're so predictable, Morgead," she told him. "I could fight you in my sleep." She feinted toward his wrist and then tried to sweep his legs out from underneath him.
He blocked and tried for a trap. "Oh, yeah? And you hit like a four-year-old. You couldn't take me down if I stood here and let you."
They circled each other warily.
The snakewood stick was warm in Jez's hands. It was funny, some distant part of her mind thought irrelevantly, how the most humble and lowly of human weapons was the most dangerous to vampires.
But it was also the most versatile weapon in the world. With a stick, unlike a knife or gun or sword, you could fine-tune the degree of pain and injury you caused. You could disarm and control attackers, and-if the circumstances required it-you could inflict pain without permanently injuring them.
Of course if they were vampires, you could also kill them, which you couldn't do with a knife or gun.
Only wood could stop the vampire heart permanently, which was why the fighting stick was the weapon of choice for vampires who wanted to hurt each other... and for vampire hunters.
Jez grinned at Morgead, knowing it was not a particularly nice smile.
Her feet whispered across the worn oak boards of the floor. She and Morgead had practiced here countless times, measuring themselves against each other, training themselves to be the best. And it had worked. They were both masters of this most deadly weapon.
But no fight had ever mattered as much as this one.
"Next you're going to try for a head strike," she informed Morgead coolly. "Because you always do."
"You think you know everything. But you don't know me anymore. I've changed," he told her, just as calmly-and went for a head strike.
"Psyche," he said as she blocked it and wood clashed with a sharp whack.
"Wrong." Jez twisted her stick sharply, got leverage on his, and whipped it down, holding it against his upper thighs. "Trap." She grinned into his face.
And was startled for a moment. She hadn't been this close to him in a long time. His eyes-they were so green, gem-colored, and full of strange light.
For just an instant neither of them moved; then-weapons down, their gazes connected. Their faces were so close their breath mingled.
Then Morgead slipped out of the trap. "Don't try that stuff," he said nastily.
"What stuff?" The moment her stick was free of his, she snapped it up again, reversing her grip and thrusting toward his eyes.
"You know what stuff!" He deflected her thrust with unnecessary force. "That I'm Jez and I'm so wild and beautiful' stuff. That 'Why don't you just drop your stick and let me hit you because it'll be fun' stuff."
"Morgead... what are you... talking about?" In between the words she attacked, a strike to his throat and then one to his temple. He blocked and evaded-which was just what she wanted. Evasion. Retreat.
She was crowding him into a corner.
"That's the only way you won before. Trying to play on people's feelings for you. Well, it won't work
anymore!" He countered viciously, but it didn't matter. Jez blocked with a whirlwind of strikes of her own, pressing him, and then he had no choice but to retreat until his back was against the corner.
She had him.
She had no idea what he meant about playing on people's feelings, and she didn't have time to think
about it. Morgead was dangerous as a wounded tiger when he was cornered. His eyes were glowing emerald green with sheer fury, and there was a hardness to his features that hadn't been there last year.
He does hate me, Jez thought. Hugh was wrong. He's hurt and angry and he absolutely hates me.
The textbook answer was to use that emotion against him, to provoke him and get him so mad that he gave her an opening. Some instinct deep inside Jez was worried about that, but she didn't listen.
"Hey, all's fair, right?" she told him softly. "And what do you mean, it won't work? I've got you, haven't I?" She flashed out a couple of quick attacks, more to keep him occupied than anything else. "You're caught, and you're going to have to let down your guard sometime."
The green eyes that had been luminous with fury suddenly went cold. The color of glacier ice. "Unless I do something unexpected," he said.
"Nothing you do is unexpected," she said sweetly.
But her mind was telling her that provoking him had been a mistake. She had hit some nerve, and he was stronger than he'd been a year ago. He didn't lose his temper under pressure the way he'd used to. He just got more determined.
Those green eyes unnerved her.
Move in hard, she thought. All out. Go for a pressure point. Numb his arm-
But before she could do anything, a wave of Power hit her.
It sent her reeling.
She'd never felt anything exactly like it. It came from Morgead, a Shockwave of telepathic energy that struck her like a physical thing. It knocked her back two steps and made her struggle for balance. It left the air crackling with electricity and a faint smell of ozone.
Jez's mind spun.
How had he done that?
"It's not hard," Morgead said in a calm, cold voice that went with his eyes. He was out of the corner by now, of course. For a moment Jez thought he was reading her thoughts, but then she realized her question must be written all over her face. 'It's something I discovered after you left," he went on. "All it takes is practice."
If you're telepathic, Jez thought. Which I'm not anymore.
The Night People are getting stronger, developing more powers, she thought. Well, Hugh had been right on that one.
And she was in trouble now.
Whack! That was Morgead going for a side sweep. He'd noticed her lack of balance. Jez countered automatically, but her head wasn't clear and her body was ringing with pain. He'd shaken her, distracted her.