I caught Lord of Loss as he was shoving Rain head-first into more of Nursery’s power-stuff with one hand, and doing the same to Chastity with the other. The ‘caught’ was more in the line of spear-fishing than net. I was the spear.

I broke through his shoulder, slammed the hook in with all the downward momentum for some added punch, then flew back, relying on the hook to catch him and pull him off balance.

As he was pulled back and away, Rain was pulled up and out of the mess. His mask had protected him, by the looks of it. Chastity had wrapped both arms around her face, protecting nose and mouth, but she had a growth at her ear. She hurried to pull it out. Precipice helped her.

Another at her cleavage—less urgent, and Precipice didn’t help her with that one. Instead, he sat on the ground, one eye on nearby appendages, and the other on me.

I started to speak, then coughed.

That didn’t work. Instead, I gestured. A ‘come hither’.

He started to rise to his feet.

I shook my head.

Another ‘come hither’. I punched at my chest with a fist.

This time he got it. He hit me with his emotion power.

I rolled my head around, my throat burning like fire, yet somehow too fluid. My neck was all tension.

My feelings were black loathing.

I took the fight to Lord of Loss again. Timing, as I brought the hook around. Evasion. More evasion this time. I couldn’t trust my forcefield to take a hit if that hit was going to deliver me to Nursery’s babies.

Baby, I reconsidered. I could see enough of the battlefield where floorboards had broken that I could see that it was all one continuous mass.

Last time, I’d scored two hits with my own hands and feet, two more hits with the crane-hook.

This time, lessons etched in a little more, I landed three and two. He swung at me, and I flew back and out of the way.

Not again. That didn’t need Precipice’s power to etch it in, but I had it regardless.

I’d been good at fighting from a young age, courtesy of good instructors. I’d learned to fight big threats, and I’d learned to fight the ones who didn’t go down. Lord of Loss was both of those things, and he was reasonably quick. I didn’t give him a chance to rest, returning immediately to the fight, and I could tell how he was deflecting my hits, bringing fists up to block, and blocking just a bit more aggressively each time.

I threw. The hook sailed over him. I pulled back, and the chain slid between neck and shoulder. If the hook caught—

He batted it away.