Bullet

22

ROSAMOND WENT DOWN in the first few blows. She lay on the ground bleeding and dazed. I sliced Haven twice before one of his long legs swept mine out from under me and I hit the floor. With the knives in my hands I couldn’t slap the floor and take the energy of the fall. I had to just fall. There’s always something about hitting a surface abruptly that dazes you for a heartbeat. I didn’t have a heartbeat to spare. He was above me and then he wasn’t. It was like a magic trick, so fast, so powerful, but not his power. Claudia had kicked him away from me and into the fireplace. The force of it shook the room. I got a glimpse of her long jean-clad legs as she sailed over me, still moving from the momentum of her own kick.

I rolled to my feet in time to see Haven block her next kick and trap her leg with his arm, his elbow coming down toward her leg. She dropped to the ground, leaving him holding her entire weight. He could hold it, but it took him a second to keep his balance. She used that second to kick out with her free leg, so that it started to form a circle to connect with his face. He couldn’t block it and break her leg. He blocked it, but now he had both hands controlling her legs. She was trapped, but we weren’t.

Kelly moved in a blur to his right, and I was moving in on his left, switching the big knife to a point hold so I’d have enough reach to stab him while he couldn’t block with his arms. I didn’t really expect to be fast enough to land the blow, but the knife tip was just suddenly sinking in between his ribs and training took over. You hit someone there from a downward angle; you push up and go for the heart.

I knew Kelly was doing something from her side, but I didn’t have time to see it. Then Haven used Claudia like a club and threw her into me. We ended in a heap on the floor with her on top of me. It was all I could do to hold on to both knives and keep them from cutting Claudia. At least this time an unconscious body broke my fall. But Claudia on top of me meant I wasn’t getting up right away.

She rolled off me and got to her feet. I was slower, but I got up. Kelly and Haven were trading blows, each of them fast enough to block the other, in blurring movements that my eyes could barely follow. But she was my size and he kept her back from him with those long, long legs. She kept trying to get inside that punishing swing of legs, but couldn’t. Neither of them could land the blow they wanted, but they were landing plenty of blows on each other’s arms and legs. Whoever tired first, or whoever could break someone’s arm or leg by sheer repetitive strength, would decide the fight, if it was just between Kelly and Haven.

Claudia moved in from his other side. He kicked out one last time, Kelly blocked with her arm, and I heard the sharp pencil snap of bone breaking. She had a moment where the pain and shock of the injury took her focus. His other foot snapped around and hit the side of her face. She went down and didn’t get back up.

Claudia had her stance, arms and fists up ready to block, long legs loose and ready, almost bouncing in place.

His arms were up, his feet planted. The two shallow slashes I’d gotten in early were dripping scarlet down his stomach and one arm. The last deep blow over the rib cage was narrow but bleeding freely. The more he moved, the faster he’d bleed. Then I saw it, a tiny bubbling of blood at the wound. Had I nicked a lung?

Haven’s voice was breathy as he said, “No woman can beat me one on one. That’s why I’m king, and you have to cheat.”

“I underestimated you; I won’t do it again,” she said.

“You think you can take me?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Claudia,” I said, “don’t make this about some macho guy crap.”

“I’ve wanted to beat the shit out of a couple of men in your life for a while now, Anita. It’s not macho crap. It’s a relief.”

“Bring it, bitch,” he said.

“Claudia . . . ,” I started to say.

She brought it.