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.
"As you said, all's fair," Morgead said, with a small, cold smile on his lips. "You have your weapons. I have mine."
And then he threw another of those Shockwaves at her. Jez was better braced for it now, but it still rocked her on her feet, took her attention off her weapon-
Just long enough for her to screw up and let him in.
He drove upward to catch her stick from below. Then he twisted, sweeping her stick in a circle, forcing her off balance again, trying to topple her backward. As Jez fought to recover, he struck to her elbow.
Hard.
Wham!
It was a different sound from the crisp whack when wood hit wood. This was softer, duller, the sound of wood hitting flesh and bone.
Jez heard her own involuntary gasp of pain.
Fire shot up her arm, into her shoulder, and for a moment she lost her grip on the stick with her right hand. She forced her fingers to close on it again, but they were numb. She couldn't feel what she was holding.
She couldn't block properly with one arm useless.
And Morgead was advancing, that deadly cold light in his eyes. Absolutely merciless. His movements were relaxed and easy; he knew exactly what he was doing now.
Two more whacks and he got through her guard again. The oak stick slammed into her ribs and she felt another wave of sickening pain. Gray dots danced in front of her eyes.
Fractured? Jez wondered briefly. She hoped not. Vampires could break each other's ribs in fun and know that everything would heal in a day or two. But Jez wouldn't recover like that. Morgead might kill her without even meaning to.
She couldn't let him keep striking her-but she couldn't retreat, either. If he got her into a corner, she'd be lost.
Whack-wham. He got her on the knee. Pain sparked up and down her leg, lighting every nerve. She had no choice but to back up. He was crowding her relentlessly, forcing her to the wall.
Morgead flashed a smile at her. Not the cold smile. This one was brilliant, and very familiar to Jez. It made him look devastatingly handsome, and it meant that he was in absolute command of the situation.
"You can give up anytime, now," he said. "Because I'm going to win and we both know it."
Chapter 8
I can't lose this fight.
Suddenly that was the only thought in Jez's mind. She couldn't afford to be hurt or scared-or stupid.
There was too much riding on it.
And since Morgead had the advantages of telepathy and strength on her at the moment, she was going to have to come up with some clever way to beat him.
It only took a moment to come up with a plan. And then Jez was carrying it out, every ounce of her concentration focused on tricking him.
She stopped backing up and took a step sideways, deliberately putting herself in a position where she could make only a clumsy block. Then she gave him an opening, holding her stick awkwardly, its tip toward him but drooping too far down.