I fly faster than I’ve ever flown, but he still gets there first.
Well, what’s the point of being a gargoyle if you can’t turn someone into stone every once in a while? Praying this works, I grab on to his wing with one hand and pull on the platinum string deep inside me with the other. He changes instantly…and without the wing design to carry a large dragon made of heavy stone, well, he starts to drop like a stone.
I flip the ball right out of his stone hands and then let go of the platinum string when we’re about twenty feet off the ground.
He changes back to a living dragon instantly, and he is beyond pissed. He hits me with every ounce of fire he’s got, but hey, gargoyle, baby. I don’t feel a thing. So I wave goodbye and then somersault backward—straight into a portal that I did not see coming.
And holy hell! It feels like I’m being pulled apart, my entire body being stretched from end to end like I’m one of those rubber toys you get at arcade games as a kid. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels really strange, and it’s all I can do to hold on to the ball as even my hands start to stretch.
Still, there’s no way I’m coming out of this portal without this ball. No way in hell. So I dig down deep and hold on as tight as I can. That’s when the pain starts—when I resist the stretch—but I don’t care. I am not messing this up, not when we’re so close.
And then, suddenly, the pain is gone and the portal is vomiting me back onto the field. Unlike everyone else, I can’t keep my footing, and I end up rolling straight onto my back like a turtle. But I’ve got the ball. That’s all that matters. Even if it is vibrating so much that my fingers feel like they’re starting to crack.
I roll over, looking for someone to throw the thing to, and Jaxon lands right in front of me with a grin and a wink. I toss him the ball, and then he’s fading away, running full tilt toward the goal…at the other end of the field. Again.
Seriously, these portals completely suck.
I race behind him—well behind him—not sure what else I can do at this point. I won’t be able to fly again for another thirty seconds. But then Cole and the other werewolf start to pass me in wolf form, heading straight for Jaxon. I can’t take down both of them, but I sure as hell can take down one, so I throw myself sideways straight into Cole.
He snarls like a rabid dog, his teeth closing on my hand. But again, stone, so it doesn’t hurt. But for the second time today, he’s not turning loose, so now he’s dragging me like a rag doll down the field by one arm.
Not quite what I was going for with what I hoped would be a heroic save. Not sure what else to do, I reach up with my other hand and pull his tail as hard as I can.
He screams like a pissed-off child, which means he lets go of my hand just long enough for me to yank it away. But he’s furious now and focused completely on me and not the ball. Which seems like it could be a problem.
At least until Xavier swoops in with a snarl—also in wolf form—and backs him down and away from me.
Cole turns and runs straight toward Jaxon like he’s just remembered the ball, but I know the truth and so does Xavier. We saw his face when he ran. He was scared of Xavier, which I’m afraid is going to have ramifications way beyond this game.
But for now, Jaxon is almost to the finish line. Thank God! I don’t think my nerves can handle much more of this.
Before he can get there, though, one of the vampires throws himself right in his path and shoves him back just as his foot is about to cross the goal. Jaxon goes flying and so does the other vampire, both of them spinning out of control through the air.
Jaxon lands on his feet, but he’s cursing, the ball so hot, it’s practically incandescent at this point. He has no other choice but to drop it. Luckily Gwen is close, and she swoops in to pick it up. Then she’s running back toward the goal. One of the dragons is hot on her heels, so she lifts a hand above her head and calls the elements.
A powerful gust of wind swirls through the field, knocking the dragon out of the air and sending him careening into the witch who thought she was sneaking up on Gwen, wand raised.
But then, out of nowhere, the other vamp slams into Gwen. They fly sideways into a portal and are gone for about ten seconds, though it feels like forever as the timer on the side of the game crawls past twenty-seven seconds. Eventually Gwen staggers out a few feet from me, the red-hot comet clutched in her hands. But she’s banged up pretty badly and she’s clutching her ribs.
I’m worried about her, but the ref has her, so—grateful that my flying time-out is over—I race forward, grab the comet, and then fly straight toward the goal line with every ounce of strength and speed I have. Cole is racing along behind me, howling with rage, but I don’t look at him. I don’t look at anyone or anything but the goal line. This is our last shot to win this, and I am not going to screw it up.