Page 103 of The Fake Divination Offense
As long as we’re speaking today into existence: “And my parents will not be at all overbearing in pushing Urzoth’s doctrine on you.”
“Mm. Then we’ll come home, and you’ll rail me so deep I’ll feel you in my throat.”
A cough, a laugh, and a bark try to come out of me all at once.
Bel flutters his fingers and skips out of the room.
Fuck, he is a demon, isn’t he? Sent straight from hell to drag me down.
And I’m so eager for it.
The Chimeras chose a cityscape for their rawball field layout. Skyscrapers, alleyways, even subway tunnels under the street. Levitated cameras fly all around to catch every piece of the action and broadcast it to the screens over the stadium and the fans at home, feeding the energy of the crowd, a constant dull roar of cheering and applause and noise.
One screen pans across the cheerleaders, and I spot Bel thrusting his hips and flurrying black pom-poms, and it settles me.
This is any other game. I have my role to play, and I’ll do it, and I’mgoodat it.
Marlow’s glowering next to me where the two of us stand on a rooftop midfield, waiting for the game to start. She’s not a fan of any field configuration that requires climbing, and I nudge her, giving her an encouraging smile when she looks at me.
“We got this,” I sign. I’ve been learning.
Marlow gives me a horrified look. “Of coursewe got this. We’re going to decimate them. I won’t accept anything less.”
Surprise has my brows popping up, and Marlow rolls her eyes.
“Seriously?” She punches my shoulder. “What’d you think I was upset about? These assholes are your rivals, so they’reourrivals. We told you.”
She nods to a building across the road, where Aaron and one of our team’s wizards crouch in a rooftop garden. They see us looking and do a Hellhounds bark, which gets picked up by other teammates here, there, farther out; a chorus of hooting and growling.
They don’t even know how bad things got with the Chimeras, just that I’ve been roiling in nerves over the game. And they’re still this eager to throw down for me.
Really inconvenient time to get mushy. But damn.
Marlow jostles my arm. “See? We’re out for blood.”
The ref blows a whistle. The game ball drops, and it’s go time.
I shake off the emotions and focus. No room for distractions; if my team’s this zealous for me, the best way I can pay them back is to crush this game.
Marlow darts forward, propelling herself off the building; I follow suit. Aaron’s wizard hits us with slow-fall spells so we drop to the sidewalk easily, then both of us take off, zipping through the city streets toward where the ball fell. I keep my eyes sharp for any movement in alleys or from above while Marlow ducks her head andruns, her singular objective to get that ball, get it across the field, and score in the Chimeras’ goal. Meanwhile,mysingular objective is to let her be able to do that.
Somewhere downfield, an explosion goes up, smoke billowingwith tinges of crackling blue—a lightning spell? I know my team holds back on anything so violent until later in the game, so it’s gotta be the Chimeras, which has me gritting my teeth.
They’rethe ones coming into this game like they’ve got something to prove?
Marlow reaches an intersection and lets me gain on her so I can go out first and take whatever might be waiting for us. Above, Aaron and his wizard should be leaping rooftops, keeping pace with us—unless the Chimeras got to them. But no ref has called the play yet, so the ball’s still active, and we have to trust that our unit of the team is functional.
More explosions come from a distant part of the field and the crowd cheers, the screens above reflecting other parts of the game and stadium.
Muscles loose, I barrel into the intersection, angling left, up a wider road. I have one beat of thinking the road’s clear before a body smashes into me, so solid it feels like a spell, but no—hands grab me as I’m dazed and lift me in the air.
Few people can lift someone of my size.One, actually, that I’ve met:
A minotaur defensive tank on the Chimeras.
I lurch against his grip, looking down at Naell’s winded, cruel smirk. His massive horns poke out of his helmet and he scuffs his feet, his tail twitching in aggravation.
“Weakling,” he bellows before hurling me across the road.
