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He moves the knife away for a moment, and I hit his wrist, breaking it. The knife falls to the ground, and I shove him into the fractured mirrors that make up the walls.

I laugh.

I pick up the knife before he can recover, striking him with my mind, keeping his shields down. I lock on to his mind with my own, forcing him down.

“Aubrey, I’ve learned. In fact, you taught me this little trick. You think that once you turn your back I will stay away, afraid. Well, know this, Aubrey,” I say, feeding his words back to him. “That isn’t how the world works.”

Now he begins to fight again. He was taken by surprise for a moment, but he grows desperate. He lashes out along the line of power I am using to strike him, and as I stumble for a moment, losing my hold, his walls return.

We both now know that this fight is serious. But he is weak, and I can feel that he is afraid. He has forgotten his knife, which I now hold; his every instinct is focused on survival.

I throw his strike back at him, forcing him away from my mind. He stumbles slightly but then throws all his power at me. I fall into the table Fala sits upon and instantly feel her power strike out against me. For just a moment I lose focus, dropping the knife, and Aubrey pins me to the ground.

He has retrieved his knife.

This scene is familiar. I remember three hundred years ago, lying upon the forest ground, Aubrey pinning me, knife in hand. The memory brings a thread of terror, and I react instinctively I do what I was not able to do then.

I throw Aubrey off me — not far, just a foot or so. But in the moment when he is off balance I shift into another form I know inside and out, one with the strength to fight.

The Bengal tiger is the largest feline on earth. Aubrey does not know the mind of a tiger, the pure animal instinct, and cannot find a hold. I slash at him, scoring his chest. The wounds heal in moments, but I have pushed him down again.

Aubrey tries to roll away, but I pin him to the ground. I am physically stronger than Aubrey and though he is stronger when using his mind to fight, my mind is powerful enough to hold him off when I am in this form.

I look into his eyes, in which I can see a flicker of fear beneath a sheet of resignation. He almost looks as if he was expecting this moment.

I prepare for a killing strike. But he does not want to die.

“You’ve proved yourself, Risika,” he tells me. “Years ago I gave you a choice between giving up and fighting to the death. Do I get no such chance?”

I hesitate. Aubrey, I know how this game works, I answer with my mind, as I cannot speak the human tongue when I am in this form. If I let you go now, what is to stop you from stabbing me in the back as soon as I turn away?

This doesn’t need to be to the death, Risika, Aubrey insists. I can sense his desperation.

You gave me a choice because I was weak, Aubrey. I am stronger than you — we have proved that here — but I swore long ago that I would avenge all you have taken from me. And you took so much; the price is so high.

He moves his head back, exposing his throat, and I pause, waiting for him to explain. I paid a high price long ago for this life. I do not want it to end yet, he tells me with his mind. I offer you my blood in return for the blood I have spilled.

He is serious. The fool really would do anything to survive. My taking his blood would make me far stronger and open his mind to me completely. There would be no way for him to shield his mind from me, and no way for him to harm me with his mind, which would make it nearly impossible for him to hurt me. Physically he would have the same strength, but he could make no move that I could not read from his mind ahead of time.

I pause for only a moment, then return to human form and lean forward. My teeth pierce skin, and the blood flows. Vampire blood is far stronger than human blood.

His blood tastes like white wine, only thicker and far more potent, and I feel giddy when I pull away again, wiping blood from my lips. The wound on his throat heals instantly, but I know the wound to his pride