Then I notice the very slight grin he gives to Fido. You cunt, Dom. You’re a fucking cunt.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Meanwhile, Bekah stands and walks to the circle. She also readies her claws. Dom stands
too.
“Bekah and Grant.”

Grant? What kind of name for a Gangrel is fucking Grant? Grant the Gangrel, can he claw
it?

“You’re fighting for the right to exclusive feeding rights in” (insert the name of some tiny
village that I care so little about that I don’t even remember it).

e
They nod and stare each other down.
“To submission.”

fil
Then they leap at each other. There’s no way I could survive either of them. The combat is
brutal and short. Grant gets a couple of slashes in at Bekah’s face, but she heals them like
they were nothing. In return she goes for the throat. He laughs as he blocks her.
This back and forth continues for less than a minute, with both taking injuries and healing
them almost instantly, until Bekah trips him with a swift kick to the ankle and leaps onto
him, worrying his neck like a terrier. She drinks at him and he stops struggling quickly.
Seems a bit weird to me – when they drink each other’s blood they put themselves at a
disadvantage – unless she’s already bound to someone completely. Maybe Grant himself?
Anyway, he yells “I yield”, which seems a bit formal for Gangrel, but Bekah draws back
triumph. Grant’s say little.
e
surprisingly quickly and Dom declares Bekah the winner. Her companions shout out in

“Sara, what do you have to say about the fight?”

pl
I hear some of the younger men sniggering. Because obviously I don’t know about combat,
even though I told them about the fucking kidnappers earlier. Dicks.
“Grant needs to get off the ground quicker.”
There are “Oooh”s from the audience. I go on.
m

“Positional advantage is everything in a serious fight. If you can’t move you’re dead.”
A couple of nods, but more sarcasm. Grant walks over.
“And how would you recommend I get up during a combat like that?”
This? Suddenly this is fucking scary. A man that I know could tear me apart is looking
down on me angrily. Don’t fuck this up, Jen.
Sa

“You know any capoeira?”

He shakes his head. Suddenly he throws me on the ground.
“Show me.”
There’s more laughter. I guess they thought I wasn’t talking from experience.
I’m a bit slow, but I sort of manage a kip-up, twisting my spine and moving my legs
quickly to get them under me. Some of them even seem impressed; naturally Grant just
nods slowly. Like many Gangrel he’s a man of relatively few words.
“If you do it right they don’t have time to take advantage. It takes some practice but you
can surprise people.
To be fair she was on you pretty quickly...”
19
 Grant looks at me funny but says no more. Several of the others start shouting. One of the
wits yells out.
“If I get you on your back you won’t have a chance to get up, love!

I give him a vicious look, and he just laughs. I mean, he’s probably a foot taller and
maybe forty kilos heavier. Even one of my angriest glares isn’t likely to scare him. But,
then, my strength of personality can surprise.
Another, I’m not sure whether genuinely or sarcastically adds:

“You want to fight Dave? Make him take back his words? That’s the way it works here.”
“Yeah I know. I don’t want to embarrass him.”

e
Of course, I didn’t have a clue about that. The fighting is everything? Fuck me…

Some shouts, not just mocking me. “Dave” laughs some more.

fil
“No chance of that.”
Then they decide that they’re going to duel for the right to take me on. I look at Dom
worriedly. He nods, and I look at him more worriedly. Fucking single combat for the fair
lady? What a load of medieval horseshit. And all this means is that I’ll end up fighting the
toughest. On the other hand, at least he might take a pummelling from the others.
If not I might be fending them off all night, getting gradually more fatigued. Or even really
hurt. So I settle for being the prize. In different ways that’s happened to me many times.
e
Bekah walks over and asks why I don’t challenge one of them, and I explain my logic. She
nods reflectively, and asks if I have any comments on the way that she fought. I pause
for a moment, then shake my head. She was a terrifying fighter; really quick. She looks a
little disappointed.
pl
“Good luck. You’ll need it.”
I can’t place her accent. And I feel annoyed a bit later when I think about how she could
have been just a little more defensive at the start. Taking time to read your opponent can
make all the difference. And unmitigated aggression works better against people who aren’t
as tough as us.
m

The tedious macho insecurity-thon continues. Dom asks me for comments after every single
bout, so I can’t even go to sleep. Mostly I lament the lack of elegance. This gets me some
funny looks and a few laughs, of course. They’re all practical fighters after all. I don’t give
a shit. Capoeira’s more a dance than a fighting style, although Brazilian ju-jitsu, that stems
from it, is fucking lethal. Maybe you should have spent less time fucking Ali, Jen. Er, no,
that’s not right. Maybe you should have spent more time listening to her combat lessons.
Meanwhile I subtly stretch, getting ready for my fight. Jesus Christ on a fucking bike.
Sa

Since there are only three other combats (two of the men, including Fido, aren’t interested
in me, boo hoo; Fido has an idea about my inclinations, after all) it doesn’t take long.
There’s not much ceremony, thankfully, just some celebrations or commiserations from those
that care. Dave wins the final. Of course.
Dom gestures to me to step on up.
But it’s now that I realise just how big Dave is; I underestimated his size advantage, and
for all the good of skill, being bigger than your opponent makes a hell of a difference. His
bulk is intimidating. Yet although he’s the “winner” he does have some big bruises, including
one on the top of his bald head where someone delivered what would be a knock-out
blow to a normal person. He shrugged it off and lifted them up bodily, throwing them out
of the circle. Fucking shit on a bike. Still, he may be underestimating me a little, too.
“I’m going to wear you down, little girl. And then I’m going to…
...wine and dine you, and fill your heart full of romance!”
20
 He gets some cheap laughs.

“Full to the top!”

Some pelvic thrusts for added effect. At least Dom has the decency to be looking
elsewhere.
“That’s not going to happen, big man. A toad is no match for a swan, even if it’s a fucking
huge toad.”
Chloe taught me that line. Okay, I added the second clause just for Dave.
I was never interested in her martial arts “wisdom”, gleaned from years of watching shit
kung fu films. Or her martial arts, for that matter. How times change. I wonder what she’d

e
think of me now, fighting for something supposedly worth having? I think she’d complain
constantly about my style, my stance, my muscle tone. She was something special, utterly
driven. Well, I’m pretty certain she still is. What did they call her? Dragon Lady? She was
certainly that; the reflecting twin dragon tattoos encircling her body. Lush.

fil
Well, I guess she had enough of an effect on me to make me go for Ali, so that’s
something...
“You talk a big fight for a little girl! And I don’t want to spoil your looks. I’ll tell you what,
if you can draw blood I’ll let you win. Deal?”
He turns to the others and raises his arms. They cheer. When he turns back my eyes meet
his.
“Deal.”
e
“Good that you’re admitting that you couldn’t win a fair fight.”
“Good that you’re dumb enough to make it easy for me.”
pl
He looks at me appraisingly.
“Then get in the ring.”
Dom confirms that Dave’s happy with the blood thing as a condition while I do some
proper warming up. Nothing too acrobatic, but enough to tell brighter people that I have a
clue. Luckily that doesn’t seem to include Dave. And I’m not rushing to the circle; I need
m

every bit of psychological advantage I can get.

“Not very keen, are you?”
“Didn’t know you were in such a hurry to lose.”
To his credit he nods at my jibe. I roll my head around; loosening up the muscles,
especially in a chilly environment, is vital. I try to psyche myself up. “You’re a Marsite, Jen.
Sa

The blood of the god of war runs in your veins.” But I’m a lover, not, despite a bit of
training, a fighter. I’m certainly not a massive fan of the macho shit. And I haven’t drunk
Marsite blood for months…
But Dom gestures, so I walk over the line, feeling real fear. Bekah counts down from three
to zero, and I breathe out hard as Dave moves towards me. Most of the first minute is me
dodging and blocking, attempting to work out his style. He might be a real fighter – I’m
not sure, and he certainly doesn’t have Sam’s skills – but he’s definitely better than me. His
main tactic seems to consist of being bigger than his opponent and smashing them crudely.
Quantity has a quality of its own, I’ve heard. And he certainly has quantity covered.
His reach is terrifying, but my groundwork is good so I can roll out of his way. A lot of
probing feints come my way, trying to wear down my energy. Clever move against
someone using full body motion. I conserve my movements where I can. However, on the
third real attempt he catches me in the ribs as I move back. Like most of us he’s as
strong as a horse. Like most of them I’m tougher than I look, but it still hurts, and he
sees my expression. For a moment, there’s a flicker of sympathy on his face.
21