Super Bad (Completed 2013)

‡ Chapter 21.5 ‡

Twirling to land a kick at his wrist, one blade clattered to the ground. Shock luckily registered him for a flashing second and I began to swipe the daggers out.

He leaped over the flying blade, his natural instincts saving him. With both hands on the one sword, he deflected more daggers the ping ping noise bouncing off.

Feeling the burn in my shoulders as I grew my speed, his ability to deflect each death wish only heightened the intensity. I heavily drew an irritated sigh and threw harder. At last one of the daggers managed to pin him right in the shirt, nailing him against the wall of a pub. He tried to wrench the knife out of the wall but it was no use, the blade dug right into the brick.

Curious eyes fixed on me as I advanced, my opponent trying to rustle out of his shirt but I threw another dagger, making him repel. I hurled another on the other side of his shirt. My blood ran cold, feelings iced.

My hand swooped up one of his swords as I made my way. I went up to him and expected to see terror, but instead there was no fear in his eyes. I bended in closer with the sword pressured to his neck. He winced but didn't slip out one word of defeat. I breathed on his hot cheek, ready to murder. Suddenly I felt a tug on my foot and tittered to the side, arms catching my fall to then pin me to the wall. My opponent and I reversed positions. Not looking good Jess. I winced to feel his own breathe skim across my cheek, holding my wrists above my head.

His shirt was torn, the earlier daggers around his feet. Damn shirt—why was it so easily ripped. His big boot trapped both my feet and I haven't felt so vulnerable in a long time. He seized my own sword and traced it along my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Clicks sparked in my mind, the magic turning the gears. He was stronger. Heavier. Faster. I had no idea how to counter or find weaknesses. I had one shot. If I could get out of his grip...I had one move before he could trap me again. Moves in combat are made to set off a reaction and a response. They are steps—once one was made you had another. Consecutive action.

Blurring my opponent, I focused on the rusty water tower standing beside the pub. Training my vision in closer, I propelled my energy towards it and spotted the loose leg, the metal barely holding on with a single bolt. One shot. Relocating my gaze on the man in front of me, I met his dark eyes. I took in a deep breath and the concentration built. Listening to the sound of his blade whipping back to slice forward, I transferred my weight at an angle where with enough twist, I slipped out one hand. I drove my fist into an upper cut, his jaw snapping back. He recovered quick and now he was lunging.

At that moment I spun around and hurled the dagger at the center leg of the water tower. I held my breath to watch the destruction unravel.

One metal leg collapsed, making the whole ground shake. Then another came, everyone diving on their stomachs. I gripped the daggers that hung from the wall. My heart pummelled my chest, my eyes shutting tight.

A wave of sticky liquid splashed down, pouring everywhere. It felt like a bucket of juice just dunked over me. It had been a while since I last took a sip of alcohol, but this was a chug of strong rum. I coughed, almost drowning from the sudden flood of burning liquid. I wiped away the drink from my face and looked around. I found all the men with their tongues out, some splashing in puddles, others rolling around, already drunk.

"The water tower didn't have water," I bluntly spoke aloud. "Really Romane. You filled a water tower up without water, replacing it with rum. How classy."

My attention stirred straight to a bobbing head with a Jamaican hat. I ran over and found him licking from a puddle of rum. I shivered, grossed out. Then I bent down and dug my hand in his pocket, pulling out my pouch and my opponents. I hooked them to my pants, quickly adding weight. Free money bitches. Not going to put that to waste.