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