I gave her a sharp nod.
Alexei slung his arm over my shoulder as we watched a female from the Devils Squadron beat in Cade’s face—one of my squad-mates. “Remember, Moira’s?—”
“A telekinetic. She’ll try to use her powers against me. Keep my head on a swivel.”
Cade stabbed the female repeatedly in the thigh, back, and sides, and used his flaming hands to burn her. But nothing stopped her metal-coated fists. I’d never seen anyone, let alone a soul, so unfazed by pain. And since souls didn’t bleed, she wouldn’t die from blood loss, nor did she care about her charred skin. He needed to sever her neck or tendons. He figured that out a second too late.
“She favors long-range combat. Anything that prevents her from getting her hands dirty,” MJ explained for the third, maybe fifth, time. “But if you can avoid my arrows, you can avoid her attacks.”
“But be mindful of the weapons that return,” Ichi added in her soft, rhythmic accent.
The Devil shoved Cade to the ground, and he slashed weakly at her heel. His feeble attempts hardly grazed her boot, and she retaliated by smashing in his face. Brain matter and blood splattered on the sand. I had to avert my gaze, unable to stand the sight. I couldn’t believe the female named Rissa had just murdered Cade with her bare hands and a pair of brass knuckles, winning her spot in my squad.
“Stay mindful, head on a swivel, avoid her weapons. Sounds easy enough,” I said over the announcer’s voice and the bloodthirsty cheering.
But I knew it wouldn’t be. Moira was a vindictive, power-seeking harlot—but she also had the skill to keep her spot as leader of the Tormentors. It should’ve made me reconsider, made me back out. But I needed this. If not to show everyone my worth, then to prove to myself I could be more than the naïve, whimpering female from Elora—from Earth.
“Lucille, a blood-banded Nephilim, has challenged the Tormentors’ leader,herleader, Moira, a blood-banded angel.”
I took a deep breath. My Glory and Infernus hovered just below the surface, awaiting a call that wouldn’t come.
“Go get her, beautiful.”
I stepped into the ring, and Moira walked calmly out of the background of warriors. As expected, she held her head high, hips swaying, the most smug smile I’d ever seen gracing her face. Her weapon of choice: daggers.
Close. Bloody. Personal.
Or they would be, if she weren’t a Dominion.
“Did you finally figure out he no longer wants you?” I mocked, pouting.
Moira threw a dagger at my head. The thick blade wobbled through the air, and I easily sidestepped, smiling as it missed me.
She smiled right back, unsurprised. Why?—
I moved right as Alexei shouted, “Duck!” Flattening myself to the ground as three daggers flew over my body. She must’ve pulled two from the weapons wall.
The crowd booed, disappointed they didn’t see blood. Part of me wanted to fling a middle finger at them, but I didn’t have time. Moira’s hovering daggers were zooming back for me. They dove again and again.
I searched through the thin cloud of grit hanging in the air and found something to help. I rolled to the edge of the circle until I hit the boots of warriors, then jerked up and ripped away a warrior’s shield just in time for Moira’s blades to thunk into the wood.
By her flaring nostrils, she definitely didn’t like my quick thinking. Behind her, though, stood my smirking, healed best friend—and Ronen, with pride in his eyes and a smile on his face.
That smile had my heart racing more than the fight did. After the other night, I didn’t expect that reaction from him. But his belief in me made my soul sing and gave me the courage to offer him a nod of gratitude in return.
Moira twisted to see who I was looking at, and I used the moment to strap the shield onto my back and lusceler closer. I didn’t have the luxury of endless weapons like Moira. If I threw my knives and missed, I’d be at a disadvantage, which was why Alexei gave me throwing knives a Dominion couldn’t steal.
Moira turned back just in time to take two blades to her shoulders, right in the joints. I hoped Ichi was proud.
Moira screeched like an incensed demon, and things took a turn for the worse.
I threw two more knives toward her legs, hoping to immobilize her, but they both missed. Her fingers twitched. The weapons wall rattled at my back, and the daggers at her hip lifted from their sheaths.
Oh shit.
I couldn’t dodge all those. Not unless I used my Glory. For a moment, I considered it. But I had another option before I chose that path.
Something hard struck my wooden shield, jolting me forward. Then a knife plunged through my arm. I cried out, luscelering in a zigzag pattern. It made it harder for her to land attacks, but some weapons still nicked me. A few slammed into the shield at my back while I dodged the ones coming for my front. But I played a dangerous game that wouldn’t last.
