Courts and Cabals by G. D'Moore (e reader comics txt) 📕

the Stars. There was rhythm and feeling ingrained in it, and if you knew how to read it, you could anticipate and adapt.

It took me a solid month to realize I was good at fighting, but I learned it the hard way. Xamira kicked my ass up and down that gym. She knocked me out more times than I can count, left me bleeding and broken, and then demanded I get back up and keep fighting. I was convinced that was half the lesson: never give up.

The imp started by throwing simple, standard combinations. Eventually, I could anticipate and dodge. Then she threw more complicated punches, which I had to dodge, block, or counter. This was about the time she taught me to punch, because punching didn’t mean shit if you couldn’t avoid getting hit in return; especially, when your opponent was an eight-foot-tall troll with a dick the size of my forearm. Lilith filled us in on that helpful tidbit, which did wonders for my self-esteem.

“As if I’m not inferior enough,” I thought, but Xamira didn’t give me time to pout. Once she knew I could hit, she threw more techniques at me.

Not only did she want me to dodge, she wanted me to attack, counter, feint, and generally get my opponent to do what I wanted and not the other way around. Weeks went into that instruction; four hours a day after class, plus morning workouts where the imp honed my body and mind. I should have been half dead after the first week, but for the first time, I finally felt alive.

During one session, Xamira came at me. She’d probably dialed it up to a four, but still, I was able to go three minutes without taking a hit. I ducked, dived, dipped, and dodged my way around her. I didn’t allow her to dictate the tempo, and I even scored a hit. My fist grazed her cheek . . . and the next thing I knew, I had the familiar scent of smelling salts assaulting my nostrils.

That’s when she started to teach me that fists weren’t the only weapon in my tool box. She taught me to use my feet, elbows, knees, and even my thick skull; although, she didn’t advise the latter except under dire circumstance. Not only did she teach me to fight with my whole body, but she taught me to fight dirty. The cabal taught a specialized form of Krav Maga to their people, and the number one rule was that there were no rules. The goal was to win the fight by any means necessary.

That’s how I found myself on the first snow of the year. I was inside punching Xamira in the muff.

“Fuckin’ A,” she wheezed and grimaced. It actually looked like I’d finally managed to inflict pain on my oppressor.

“Shit,” I let my guard down, because I hoped someone would do the same if they nailed me in the balls during practice. She made me pay.

Before I knew what hit me, she had swept my legs out from under me and was fighting for a full mount. We hadn’t spent a lot of time on my ground game. Mostly, because it the troll ever got me on the ground, I was fucked.

“Come on, Cam, get the better position,” she instructed, and I was half a second too late to recognize her imbalance before she got the full mount.

I got my hands up in time so she didn’t pummel my face into hamburger meat. I tried to buck her off, but she resisted. I tried to pull her close, and partially succeeded. I’d wrapped her up, but she threw a couple blows into my ribs, and knocked the wind out of me.

I wasn’t going to last long, which was the whole point. I went through my options and saw an opening. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I went to trap an arm, and bend it to the point it would break, but she was faster. She trapped my arm instead. With a grace I didn’t possess, she rolled us both, and put me into a textbook triangle choke.

With my throat compressed between my own arm and her thigh, I was rapidly running out of air and blood. “What do you do, Cam?” she asked calmly.

Her grip was like iron, so I didn’t have a shot of breaking it. I set my feet and used the last of my strength to pick up her whole body and smash it down onto the ground. Of course, she was ready. The second I had my feet set, a hand darted out and grabbed my ankle. Next thing I knew, we were back to our original position: she was on top, but this time, she was sitting on my neck and choking the shit out of me.

“Nice try,” she smiled coyly, assured in her own victory.

I growled back, but it came out as more of a gurgle. My vision was gradually fading to black, and I did the only thing I could think of: I opened up and bit down on the inside of her thigh as hard as I could.

I was rewarded with a scream and a loosening of her choke hold. I had enough time to catch a breath before she hit me with something new. I had no idea what the hell it was, but the effects were immediate. I’d surprised her by taking a chunk out of her Mike Tyson-style, but she made me pay.

Her punch was full of . . . something. It wasn’t just flesh and bone hitting me with the kinetic energy of a runaway car. There was magic in it. My head went fuzzy, and it felt like a veil had been lifted off my eyes. I was looking around and truly seeing for the first time. I took in everything with a sense of amazement until