taking their seats; they just popped into existence, already in their places.
I stood in one corner of a large red square. Clearly a fi ghting ring, though with no cage surrounding it like I was used to. Not even a rope or railing to reinforce its boundary. My opponent appeared in the far corner.
I’d never fought a woman before. This would be different.
I ignored the noise of the gathering crowd to get the measure of her. Tall, nearly Dane’s height. The kind of muscular build that was achieved for its own sake, not from lugging heavy equipment around a merinium mine.
She had strength, weight, and reach on me. And from the cool look in her eyes, I knew it wasn’t her fi rst fi ght.
A voice came from everywhere and nowhere. “Wagers are now locked in. Fight to commence in three . . . two . . . one . . .
begin.”
97
S T I T C H I N G S N O W
I never got the lady’s name or anything, not that I cared.
Especially when she ran straight at me.
Instinct took over. I dodged, landing a kidney punch as I did.
All it elicited was a grunt.
She twisted, grabbing me—I didn’t move fast enough to escape her hold—and threw me across the ring.
I’d thought there was no cage. I was wrong. Thousands of tiny hooks jerked my muscles from the inside out.
A shock-fi eld lining the ring. Charming.
The woman came at me again while I was still down, swing-ing her leg back for a kick. Dim move, and one I anticipated. I pivoted and brought my own leg up, thrusting my heel into the kneecap of her anchor leg. She went down, giving me enough time to roll to my feet and move away from the ring’s perimeter.
I did not want another dose of that shock-fi eld.
My opponent was warier when she got up. She circled me, calculating her next move . . . smiling.
I hated it when they smiled.
Three attempts to knock it from her face failed, and I took three slamming blows to the gut in return.
She swung at my head, and I moved my left forearm to block.
My arm didn’t slow hers down at all. Her fi st crashed through my defense and collided with the side of my head.
From there, the fi ght came unhinged.
I staggered away but kept to my feet, weathering a small shock from the cage. She stayed right with me. Another swing, and another. My blocks did nothing—I felt them more than she did. A bone in my left forearm snapped, and I cried out.
It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real.
It felt real enough.
98
R.C. ll E WI S
I let myself get angry, let the rage flly. It bought me a little space and a few bruises for her, but she kept coming.
I’d lost fi ghts before, plenty of them. Most times, I knew it would happen long before it was decided. This was no different, and I always shifted to the same strategy.
Hang in as long as you can, Essie. And hope you don’t get yourself killed.
99
10
FOUR ROUNDS.
Somehow I pushed through four rounds before my body and brain both refused to cooperate any longer, and I passed out.
Passing out while hooked up to the VT unit was not a pleasant experience.
As soon as the fi ghting ring faded, a jolt ripped through me, waking me in the real world. My body still wanted the oblivion of unconsciousness and rebelled. I didn’t have a single injury, but the lower functions of my mind wouldn’t accept it, convinced I was a bleeding pile of broken bones. My eyes blurred as I shook, sending even more phantom pain shooting through my body. I wanted to throw up, but my brain couldn’t get the signals worked out right.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dane’s voice.
“She pushed too long.” Liza. “The beating she took, she should have blacked out much sooner. She overloaded on neural stimuli.”
R.C. ll E WI S
“What does that mean?”
“It means her brain is very confused. She’ll be fi ne once she sleeps it off.”
“Knock her out, then.”
“We can’t interfere with her neurochemistry more. That’ll make it worse. Let’s get her back to your room.” Hands on me,
I stood in one corner of a large red square. Clearly a fi ghting ring, though with no cage surrounding it like I was used to. Not even a rope or railing to reinforce its boundary. My opponent appeared in the far corner.
I’d never fought a woman before. This would be different.
I ignored the noise of the gathering crowd to get the measure of her. Tall, nearly Dane’s height. The kind of muscular build that was achieved for its own sake, not from lugging heavy equipment around a merinium mine.
She had strength, weight, and reach on me. And from the cool look in her eyes, I knew it wasn’t her fi rst fi ght.
A voice came from everywhere and nowhere. “Wagers are now locked in. Fight to commence in three . . . two . . . one . . .
begin.”
97
S T I T C H I N G S N O W
I never got the lady’s name or anything, not that I cared.
Especially when she ran straight at me.
Instinct took over. I dodged, landing a kidney punch as I did.
All it elicited was a grunt.
She twisted, grabbing me—I didn’t move fast enough to escape her hold—and threw me across the ring.
I’d thought there was no cage. I was wrong. Thousands of tiny hooks jerked my muscles from the inside out.
A shock-fi eld lining the ring. Charming.
The woman came at me again while I was still down, swing-ing her leg back for a kick. Dim move, and one I anticipated. I pivoted and brought my own leg up, thrusting my heel into the kneecap of her anchor leg. She went down, giving me enough time to roll to my feet and move away from the ring’s perimeter.
I did not want another dose of that shock-fi eld.
My opponent was warier when she got up. She circled me, calculating her next move . . . smiling.
I hated it when they smiled.
Three attempts to knock it from her face failed, and I took three slamming blows to the gut in return.
She swung at my head, and I moved my left forearm to block.
My arm didn’t slow hers down at all. Her fi st crashed through my defense and collided with the side of my head.
From there, the fi ght came unhinged.
I staggered away but kept to my feet, weathering a small shock from the cage. She stayed right with me. Another swing, and another. My blocks did nothing—I felt them more than she did. A bone in my left forearm snapped, and I cried out.
It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real.
It felt real enough.
98
R.C. ll E WI S
I let myself get angry, let the rage flly. It bought me a little space and a few bruises for her, but she kept coming.
I’d lost fi ghts before, plenty of them. Most times, I knew it would happen long before it was decided. This was no different, and I always shifted to the same strategy.
Hang in as long as you can, Essie. And hope you don’t get yourself killed.
99
10
FOUR ROUNDS.
Somehow I pushed through four rounds before my body and brain both refused to cooperate any longer, and I passed out.
Passing out while hooked up to the VT unit was not a pleasant experience.
As soon as the fi ghting ring faded, a jolt ripped through me, waking me in the real world. My body still wanted the oblivion of unconsciousness and rebelled. I didn’t have a single injury, but the lower functions of my mind wouldn’t accept it, convinced I was a bleeding pile of broken bones. My eyes blurred as I shook, sending even more phantom pain shooting through my body. I wanted to throw up, but my brain couldn’t get the signals worked out right.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dane’s voice.
“She pushed too long.” Liza. “The beating she took, she should have blacked out much sooner. She overloaded on neural stimuli.”
R.C. ll E WI S
“What does that mean?”
“It means her brain is very confused. She’ll be fi ne once she sleeps it off.”
“Knock her out, then.”
“We can’t interfere with her neurochemistry more. That’ll make it worse. Let’s get her back to your room.” Hands on me,
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