I pushed past people and made my way toward the employee door that opened to a crowded, dirty hall.  Ethan’s business wasn’t legitimate enough for a cleaning crew.  Which meant it was perfect for me and the fights.  With a smile, I turned right and walked toward the door marked “Z’s Play Room.”

The big man turned when I opened the door, but he didn’t approach.  My gloves waited for me on the floor.  They were clean and dust free as promised.

I looked through the cage, across the bar, and met Ethan’s eyes.  His smile was gone.  He nodded at my opponent as if to say, “Get to it.”

Tightening my gloves, I turned from Ethan and eyed the fighter with pity.  I hated my need to fight.  I hated that I would hurt him.  I hated that I would never grow close to another person because of the drain I put on them.  Most days I hated just about everything.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

The man turned to look at me.

“He said you would ask.  Call me Brick.”

Ethan’s idea of a name, no doubt.  I studied the man a moment before stepping closer.  Ethan was right.  Very little spilled from Brick.  I tasted a hint of contentment and nothing more, though the scent of stale cigarettes and old booze hung around him like a cloud.  I gave Ethan one last look, then focused on Brick.

“Tell me when you want to stop.”

The big man raised his fists and beckoned me.

All right, then.  I swung first, relishing the feel of my shoulder muscles stretching and my stomach tightening.  I connected, and a tiny bit of pent-up frustration burst from me like air set free from an overfilled balloon.

I ducked under his counterswing and swung again.  Each time I connected, I released more of the pent-up emotion I’d siphoned.  The crowd shouted encouragement to Brick, and their excitement refilled the depleting emotion before I could enjoy any relief.  I picked up the pace.

Jab after jab, Brick stayed with me.  He rarely landed a blow, but took plenty.  Sweat trickled down my back and beaded on my upper lip.  I danced around him, ducking and weaving.  I kicked the back of his knee and brought him down but only for a heartbeat.  He laughed and surged to his feet with an uppercut that almost connected.  A quick twist saved me, and a glint of annoyance flickered in Brick’s eyes.  The emotions of the crowd still touched me, but Brick and I were moving fast enough now that I continued to drain myself faster than I could siphon.

Then, I felt a change in the room.  A black hole, a vast, emotional nothingness approached.  The unusual phenomenon momentarily distracted me.

Brick saw an opening and swung.  The force behind his jab caused a breeze along my cheek as I dodged to the right.  A reminder to stay focused.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling of that black hole and the sudden belief that something really bad was coming my way.  Maybe it was the letter still on my fridge.  Maybe it was because I was once again jobless.  Maybe it was because I knew Ethan planned to talk to me again.  Whatever it was, it filled me with dread, an emotion created by me alone.

I ducked under Brick’s next swing and came back with a punch to his jaw.  Something crunched, and I wanted to cringe for him.  Brick staggered back a step and shook his head.  I didn’t press him.  Instead, I gave him a moment to clear the hit.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed the repetitious movement of a dark-haired man near the fence, but I didn’t look away from Brick.  His gaze looked a little unfocused, and I hoped I hadn’t done any real damage.  I still had a lot to drain.  Sometimes, if a single fight wasn’t enough to empty everything, I called out to the crowd for another contender.  I might need to do that with Brick.  He’d taken enough of a beating.  The guy pacing beside the cage might be up for a round or two.

Brick brought his gloves back up and stepped toward me.  A low growl, barely loud enough to hear over the noise, reached me.  I turned to look and met the deep brown eyes of the tall, dark-haired man.  My stomach dipped at the sight of him.

Just as I was registering the details of the stranger’s strong, clean-shaven jaw, Brick swung and knocked my lights loose.

Time slowed as my head snapped back.  Something crashed against the fence.  I barely heard it over the ringing in my ears.  I widened my stance to stay upright and saw one of the brackets pull from the ceiling before I straightened.  Stunned, my gaze followed the dust down as I automatically brought my fists up.

I expected more from Brick, but he wasn’t moving toward me.  He wasn’t looking at me, either.  Something crashed against the cage again.  Then, I saw it.

The metal of the cage bent inward as a huge dog crashed against the fence again and again.  It didn’t look at me.  It only looked at Brick, who stared back at it blankly.  I’d hit him too hard.  I must have.  Maybe Brick had hit me too hard, too.

Ethan shouted my name as a few more of the brackets tore from the ceiling.  A memory surfaced of a video I’d seen earlier that year.  A man had been attacked by a dog, just about the same size as the one that crashed against the cage.  When the dog had fled, there’d been little left of the man.  The memory shook me free.

“Brick, move!” I yelled, trying to jar him from his stupor.

I gave the man a shove toward the door, then ran past him when he showed no interest in saving himself.  People in the main bar were screaming and running for the exit.  Chaos reigned beyond the cage—every man for himself.  Worried for Ethan, I pushed through the door to the hall so hard that it bounced back on me and banged my left shoulder.

The rhythmic slamming of the cage stopped as I stumbled out into the service hall and eyed my options.  The employee entrance was too close to the dog.  I’d need to go out to the alley, then circle around to the front to get Ethan.

Claws screeched on the employee door, and I almost tripped over myself in my rush toward the back exit.  Behind me, the door shuddered as something hit it with enough force to make the metal groan.  My heart stopped, and I twisted to look over my shoulder.  I was still alone.  But for how long?  A burst of adrenaline helped me reach the end of the hall.

The cold metal exit bar of the back door gave way, and I flew outside, startling a few of the users who lingered amongst the trash.  I pulled emotions from them as I ran past, fueling myself.  The people sagged.  I didn’t stop running or pulling.  I might need it to get to Ethan.

Ahead, the mouth of the alley beckoned.  Already, people from the club ran past on the street.  Screaming and shouting filled the air, along with my own rapid breathing and the pounding of my feet on the pavement.

Before I reached the mouth of the alley, the door burst open behind me.  Taking a risk, I looked back.  Just in time, too.  The dog flew at me, knocking me backwards.  I lifted my arms to block its snapping jaws as I fell to the ground under its weight.  My head hit the blacktop with a burst of pain, and I lost my breath a second time.

My ears rang.  I gave my head a tiny shake and blinked as I looked up at my hands.  They weren’t braced on fur but a human arm.  I blinked again, trying to focus.  Beyond the snarling face and snapping teeth, I met the light grey gaze of an older man.  He had wrapped his arm around the thing’s neck in an attempted chokehold.

“Run,” he said. The man pulled back, straining to win me some wiggle room.

The thing on top of me roared and tried shaking the man off, but it didn’t budge from its position.  Its front paws rested on the pavement, boxing me in, and its chest pressed me down.  How did the man expect me to run?

I focused on the dog.  I’d never tried pulling emotions from an animal before.  But now, I stretched out my senses.  I felt the worry of the man holding the beast but nothing from the beast itself.