Read Online Bone Crossed by Patricia Briggs - Free Book Online Page A

that gave me the idea. I’d spent some time at his dojo—in his garage—practicing a jumping, spinning roundhouse kick. It was developed as a way to knock an opponent off his horse, a sacrificial move that the foot soldier would not expect to survive. Mounted warriors had more value as a weapon than foot soldiers, so the sacrifice would be worth it. In modern days, the kick is mostly for demos, used in combat with another skilled person on the ground it is generally too slow, too flashy, to be useful. Too slow unless you happened to be a part-time coyote and supernaturally fast.
    Lee would never expect me to try it.
    My heel hit Lee’s jaw, and he collapsed on the floor almost before I’d decided to use the move. I collapsed right next to him, still fighting for breath from his hit to my diaphragm.
    Sensei was beside Lee, checking him out almost before I landed. Adam put his hand on my abdomen and pulled my legs straight to facilitate breathing.
    “Pretty,” he said. “Too bad you pulled it; if anyone deserved to lose his head ...” He didn’t mean it as a joke. If he’d said it with a hair more heat, I’d have been worried.
    “Is he all right?” I tried to ask—and he must have understood.
    “Knocked out cold, but he’ll be fine. Not even a sore neck for his trouble.”
    “I think you’re right,” Sensei said. “She pulled it, and angled her foot perfectly for a tournament hit.” He held Lee still as the big man moaned and started to stir.
    Sensei looked at me and frowned. “You were stupid, Mercy. What is the first rule of combat?”
    By this time I could talk. “The best defense is fast tennis shoes,” I said.
    He nodded. “Right. When you noticed he was out of control—which I’m sure was about two full minutes at least before I did, because I was helping Gibbs with his axe kick—you should have called for help, then gotten away from him. There was no point in letting this continue until someone got hurt.”
    From the sidelines, Gibbs, the other brown belt, said, “She’s sorry, Sensei. She just got her directions confused. She kept running the wrong way.”
    There was a general laugh as tension dispersed.
    Sensei guided Lee though a general check to make sure nothing was permanently damaged. “Sit out for the rest of the lesson,” he told Lee. “Then we’ll have a little talk.”
    When Lee got up, he didn’t look at me or anyone else, just took up a low-horse stance with a wall at his back.
    Sensei stood up, and I followed suit. He looked at Adam.
    Who bowed, fist to hand and eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses he hadn’t been wearing when I’d first glimpsed him in the doorway. Most of the werewolves I know carry dark glasses or wear hats that can shadow their eyes.
    “Adam Hauptman,” he said. “A friend of Mercy’s. Just here to observe unless you object.”
    Sensei was an accountant in real life. His day job was working for an insurance firm, but here he was king. His eyes were cool and confident as he looked at Adam.
    “The werewolf,” he said. Adam was one of five or six of his pack who had chosen to come out to the public.
    “Hai,” agreed Adam.
    “So why didn’t you help Mercy?”
    “It is your dojo, Sensei Johanson.” Sensei raised an eyebrow, and Adam’s sudden smile blazed out. “Besides, I’ve seen her fight. She’s tough, and she’s smart. If she had thought she was in trouble, she’d have asked for help.”
    I glanced around as I rolled over and stood up, as good as new except for the pretty bruises I was going to have on my belly. Zee was gone. He wouldn’t have lingered, with Adam to take over guard duty. His nose had wrinkled at the smell of sweaty bodies when we’d come in—he’d been lucky it was relatively cool this fall. In full summer, the dojo smelled from a block away, at least it did to my nose. To me the scent was strong but not unpleasant, but I knew from the comments of my fellow karate students that most humans disliked it almost as