I make sure no one is seriously injured then take advantage of the ensuing chaos to toss the ball high enough in the air to reset it, then catch it again as I race back down toward the field. I’m in my gargoyle form, so despite the darkness, I can see well enough to figure out that I’m not that far from their goal line. I lay on the speed, heading toward that damn red line with every ounce of energy I can muster. I’ve got thirty seconds to get close to my goal and maybe, just maybe, figure out one more way to reset the ball without chancing losing it when I’m this close to the end. Now if everyone else on the field would also cooperate, I would really appreciate it.
But the upper balcony seats jut out over the field in this section, so I have to fly low in order to clear them. I do my best, dipping down and bringing my wings in low and close to my body as I make a beeline for the end. As long as the dragons remain tangled up with the spectators, I have a real chance.
I end up hitting the field about twenty feet from the goal line with the most intense tunnel vision of my life. I know things are going on behind me and around me, but I don’t care right now. If they were seriously injured, or about to be, the magic of the game would pull them out anyway. All I care about is getting to that damn goal line before the dragons—or anything else—catches me.
And if I could do it before my hands literally shake off my body from the ball vibrating so intensely, that would be great, too. But I’m low to the ground now, too low, so I start to climb up again as fast as possible.
I don’t make it. Quinn comes out of nowhere, in werewolf form, slamming into me so hard that he sends me careering into the ground.
It doesn’t hurt—the stone keeps me from feeling too much—but the lack of pain doesn’t change the fact that I’m on the ground with a wolf standing directly above me, snarling like I’m about to be his next meal.
He wants the ball—I know he wants the ball—but I’m not planning on giving it to him. At least not if I can help it. Instead, I grab on to the comet with one hand, then pull back my other hand and punch him in the nose as hard as I can with my stone fist.
He screams and rears back, blood spurting out of his nose, and I take the opportunity to roll over and start army crawling away, but the ball is vibrating so badly that it’s almost impossible to hold on to it like this.
I manage it, though, and stumble to my feet at as close to a run as I can manage. I shift on the fly, going back to my human form so I can run faster. I’m so close, the goal line is only twenty feet in front of me, and I’m almost there, almost there. Back in human form, the burn from the comet is moving quickly from painful to agonizing, but if I can just hold on another few seconds—
Out of what feels like nowhere, Cam (Macy’s right, he is a fucking traitor) hits me with some kind of earth spell, and vines shoot up from the field and wrap themselves around my ankles and legs. I go down hard and take the ball with me.
It’s burning hot now, and when I fall on top of it, I can feel it branding me through my shirt. Can feel painful blisters starting to form. The pain is too much, and I gasp, roll off the ball, and just that easily, Macy’s soon-to-be-ex-friend Simone swoops in.
She picks up the ball and takes off running full tilt for the goal.
114
Fake It Till You
Break It
I jump to my feet, shifting into my gargoyle form as I do, so that the vines are ripped apart by my larger stone size. But I’m way behind Simone, and I’m terrified I won’t be able to catch her before she tosses the comet to a teammate and I never catch up.
I launch myself into the air, and briefly I think about tapping into Hudson’s powers. But he said I can do it only once, and to make sure that when I do, it’s to win, because it will totally wipe me out.
I’m not there yet—I’m currently about as far from winning as I was at the beginning of the game, maybe even further—but if I don’t catch Simone right now, it won’t matter if I save Hudson’s power for later because I will have already lost.
Desperate not to let that happen, I fly faster, determined to use the power if I really, really have to. One of the dragons—Joaquin, I’m pretty sure—passes Simone going in the opposite direction and heads straight for me, fire blazing and talons out.
I don’t have time for him or his shit right now. Too bad he doesn’t feel the same way about me.
He’s heading straight for me like I’m personally responsible for whatever pain and humiliation he suffered coming out of the portal earlier, and he’s looking for payback.
Also something I don’t have time for at the moment.
But this is the path Simone is running, so this is the one I have to stay on—which means I can’t afford to duck or change course or do anything at all but what I’m doing.
So I do exactly that, even though it means flying straight at Joaquin.
You know, if anyone had told me six months ago that I’d be playing a supernatural game of chicken with a dragon, I would have suggested they stop smoking whatever it was they were smoking. But six months makes a huge difference in this world—hell, at Katmere Academy, six minutes makes a huge difference—and I can’t afford to blink. Not now. Not this time.
So I stay the course, no matter how scared I am.
No matter how fast my heart is pounding.
No matter how loudly my brain is screaming for me to stop, to go back, to turn around because there’s no way I can win in a collision with a two-thousand-pound dragon.
But I have to win—this collision and this game. Which means there’s no way I’m backing down now.
A quick glance at the field shows me that Simone has passed the ball off to Cam, who is now running for the goal even faster, with the wolves quickly approaching to flank him on either side. I have no idea where the other dragon is—and I try not to let that fear distract me—because I’ve almost caught up with Cam, and I need to get this giant freaking other dragon the hell out of my way.
So I’m just going to have to count on beating the warlock to the goal line and keeping the ball in play.
How I’m going to do that is another matter altogether, though. Especially since there’s only one way I can think of to do that while we’re both thirty feet off the ground—and it’s pretty goddamn awful.
I know everyone on the ground thinks I’m out of my mind. I know they’re convinced I’m about to die right here in midair, and maybe they’re right. But times don’t get much more desperate than this, so I aim for the dragon and brace myself for impact.
I let myself wonder briefly about not surviving the upcoming crush. And if I’m really willing to take that chance.
But the truth is, if I don’t take that chance—if I don’t fight this fight and win—I won’t survive anyway. Besides, I’d rather die fighting for what I believe in than live as the victim of somebody else’s whims—especially if that person is as evil as Cyrus.