Mercy Thompson 01-05 - THE MERCY THOMPSON COLLECTION

. substance. But it was more important to get a quick reply out than it was to be clever. I looked at Paul. “Mary Jo stepped between me and Henry.”
    â€œAnd you still let her fight?” Paul asked me incredulously. “You didn’t think that might be dangerous?”
    â€œA fight to the death is dangerous,” I told him. “She knew about her ribs. I knew you didn’t want to kill her.”
    He stared at me. Glanced at Henry. To Darryl, he said, “Yes. Let’s get this over with.”
    Darryl gave him a half bow, stepped off the mat, and said, “Gentlemen, you may begin.”
    It started slowly.
    With most of the expanse of the dojo between them, Paul made some fancy salute that I didn’t recognize; a graceful flutter of the hands and forearms combined with a half step forward, then back. He made a breathy, hissing noise that sounded alien and predatory.
    Adam placed his fists together at his chest, then lowered them slowly and silently, flowing smoothly into an openhanded guard: a more common salute, simple and direct. It looked very similar to the salute my sensei had taught me. The scabs on his hands broke as he moved his fingers.
    Paul advanced, a quick series of zigzag steps that let him glide across the mat while making it virtually impossible to predict where his next step would take him. His left arm was high, almost vertical, while his right maintained a low guard, hand positioned unconsciously near his groin.
    Adam watched him, pivoting slightly to face him squarely as he crossed the mat. Had he seen what I had? That Paul was blinking as if he were trying to clear his vision.
    Adam smiled just a little. For me? I decided that I’d do better to try to keep out of his head if I could figure out how—and let him concentrate on Paul.
    Paul’s foot flashed out in a low, scything kick to the knee, and Adam’s weight shifted as he raised his foot in response. As Adam completed the block, Paul’s foot stopped short, then zipped up toward Adam’s right cheek in a modified roundhouse. Paul was strong enough to put some serious muscle behind the kick despite the short distance. Adam barely blocked in time, and the force of the kick made him stumble a half step. Paul danced back out of range.
    Adam moved forward slowly, deliberately, a couple of bold steps, eyes on his quarry. Paul retreated, automatically giving ground to the Alpha. He caught himself and glared at Adam, who met his eyes and held them. With weres, a battle could be waged on multiple fronts.
    To get away from Adam’s gaze, Paul threw another roundhouse with his left foot, but he was too far away to connect effectively. Stupid waste of energy, I thought, but at least the move let him break eye contact without actually losing the contest. He was using his legs more than his arms, and I wondered if he had hurt his hands in the fight with Mary Jo. If so, it wasn’t enough to matter.
    Paul used the momentum from the wasted kick to spin sharply and drive his right heel in a savage back kick aimed at Adam’s stomach. He might be a jerk, but Paul knew how to move, and he was blazingly fast.
    Adam again managed to block the kick, but the block only muted the force. Adam let the kick fold him over and throw him back across the mat, springing back with it. Paul came in right behind, arms rising to the high-block position he’d used on Mary Jo. Adam regained his balance just as Paul closed with him, and spun on his left foot and drove his right leg in a side kick. There was the crisp pop of fabric snapping as his leg flashed out to full extension, but it missed Paul by a handspan or more.
    Paul’s hands clenched, and both fists came down in an instant replay of the attack he’d used on Mary Jo. Adam was bent at the waist, failed kick still extended, his back exposed to Paul’s descending fists. And then he did one of those kung- fumovie moves, spinning horizontally. I wasn’t the only one who gasped.
    The kick hadn’t missed; it was the start of something beautiful and dangerous. Adam’s left leg hit Paul’s shoulder with such force that Paul’s blow went wide, flailing at empty space, as he spun in midair before crashing to the mats.
    Paul hit like a pine tree falling, and the sound of his arm breaking was loud enough for everyone to hear. Adam landed on his stomach, one leg trapped under Paul’s body, which was perpendicular to Adam’s.