I duck and scramble under his sword arm. Probably not a recommended move but there’s a reason why you have to wind up for a hit. With me up close, he can cut but can’t do a lot of impact damage.

I try to kick out his knee but he’s ready for me and spins out of the way. Unlike the other opponents I’ve been fighting lately, Burnt is neither drunk nor an amateur.

He swings for another blow.

I duck. I feel the wind of his blade along the top of my head.

I’m off balance and don’t have enough time to set myself up for a good defensive stance.

I have just enough time to raise my blade to block.

He hits me again with bone-smashing force.

When the impact hits, my skull rattles so much, it feels as if it’s vibrating off my spine. I almost lose the sword but miraculously manage to hang onto it.

I stagger and fall to my knee.

I vaguely register Paige screaming behind me. Paige may have a killer bite but she’s no match for a warrior angel with a sword and I’m glad she knows it.

A part of me sees Raffe wading through blades and blows, trying to make his way to me. But there are too many opponents ganging up on him.

Waves of fury swamp me. What I thought was rage pulsing from Raffe is actually coming from me.

No, not me.

The sword.

Burnt was part of the gang that cut off Raffe’s wings. Because of that, the sword had to leave Raffe. Now, she’s stuck with me, a weakling little human. She’s had to suffer insult upon insult since then, including being laughed at. And now, the final humiliation—Burnt’s about to beat us into the ground with no more than two or three blows.

Boy, is she pissed.

Fine. I’m pissed too. This bastard took my sister and look what happened.

We might as well go down in flames together. At least we can vent some of our anger in a final push. I hope I can hit him somewhere where it really hurts.

Burnt has the nerve to impatiently motion for me to get up. He’d probably never live it down if he swung his killing blow while his scrawny-girl opponent was down.

I wind up all that anger as I take my stance and get ready.

Burnt and I both draw back our swords.

With all my might, I yell and swing at the same time he does.

Paige cries my name. Raffe shouts as he shoves warriors aside, trying to reach me.

When the two swords crash, the impact neither rattles my bones nor has me tasting blood. It’s as if all the force stopped at the blade before it vibrated down to me. As if all that tremendous killing power got redirected.