Blazewrath Games

by Amparo Ortiz

  TO THE SIRE:

  YOU ARE NOT MY MASTER.

  THE BLOOD YOU SPILL IS ON YOUR HANDS.

  BUT THE CUP WILL BE IN MINE.

  Camera flashes blind me again. The crowd’s murmurs multiply to deafening heights.

  I take it all in without blinking or wincing. My posture is even straighter. But as the photographers immortalize the words behind me on film, a part of me wonders how the Sire will handle my tiny rebellion. What if I’m making a huge mistake?

  No. This isn’t a mistake. Now walk away with poise.

  I read the message one last time, then strut offstage like a champion.

  “CONGRATULATIONS. YOU’VE JUST SENTENCED YOURSELF TO DEATH.”

  Manny kicks a metal chair in our greenroom. This is the first time I’ve seen him so passionate about anything. The fact that it’s in regard to my safety is blowing my mind.

  Joaquín and Director Sandhar are also in here with us. At the director’s request, President Turner is in his private office with his husband. A small army of bureau agents watches over them. My teammates are settled in their box seats, but even without them, this room feels too crowded. Scotland is playing against Portugal in thirty minutes. That hasn’t stopped Director Sandhar from quarantining me like a criminal who has the secret code to deactivate a bomb.

  “Calm down, Pa. This isn’t helping,” Joaquín says, disconcerted.

  “You know what’s not helping? Pushing a killer’s buttons,” Manny scoffs.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Director Sandhar says, “but Mr. Delgado is correct. Your stunt represents an open act of war on the Sire. You’ve broken the agreement you signed.”

  “I haven’t broken the agreement,” I cut in. “He told me to condemn him. I did that.”

  “Technically, yes, but the Sire wanted you to read a specific speech.”

  “Well, he can be pissed about me discarding his speech, but I did what he asked.”

  Telling him I did this so I could belong to myself won’t get me in his good graces. I need to convince him I’m also helping him catch the Sire. That I did it to protect President Turner.

  “Why would you discard the speech?” Joaquín seems like he’s fitting pieces into the wrong puzzle. He steers his wheelchair closer to me, shaking his head.

  I retreat a few steps. “To distract him from the president. If he’s focused on me, he’ll have fewer chances to block President Turner from locating him. We’ll catch him faster.”

  Director Sandhar knits his eyebrows together. “We?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m as much a part of this as the rest of you.”

  “Are. You. Serious?” Manny swears in Spanish and English, a tennis match against the two languages. “You’re not a bureau agent! Acting like one could piss off that bastard even more! What if his best Dragon Knights are outside this room, ready to kill you on sight?!”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Director Sandhar says confidently.

  “Okay.” Manny draws nearer to him, his nostrils flaring. “Let’s say he doesn’t kill her. What if he goes after her family instead? Or her best friend? She modified his rules. Big whoop. So can he, especially since he’s had it out for her since that Waxbyrne shitshow.”

  I’m flatlining and bursting to life all at once. Andrew hadn’t already been on his bad side before he protested the Cup. Neither had Esperanza before she Faded. I, on the other hand, almost got killed for fighting Takeshi. What if delivering the Sire’s message hadn’t been a replacement punishment for me? What if it was a test to see if I behaved?

  A test I’ve failed.

  “But he won’t be angry …” I whisper breathlessly. “He won’t hurt them … right?”

  Joaquín says, “This is the Sire. He’s capable of many things.”

  No, no, no, no, no.

  I almost lunge at Director Sandhar. “That Fire Drake at Waxbyrne … Is she still safe?”

  He nods. “And will remain safe for the rest of her life.”

  “Then hide my loved ones like you hid the Fire Drake. President Turner can keep working on his locator abilities. You’ll catch the Sire if he tries anything.”

  “When he tries anything,” Manny says.

  I flinch as if he’s spat on me. I’m not sure how Samira and her family will take it. My parents are going to flip. But if it means keeping them alive, I’d rather they hate me forever.

  “We need to act fast,” Director Sandhar says. “The Jones family, Carlos Torres, Leslie Wells, and Todd Anderson could be his next targets.”

  My stomach twists at the mention of Todd. “Why do you think my cousin is a target?”

  “You saved him back at Waxbyrne.”

  Right. Guess he should be protected, too. “Okay, but don’t put him with Samira.”

  He nods without asking why, which makes me like him ten times more. He then pulls out his phone and rapidly texts someone. Probably Agent Horowitz. “You all should get to the box seats. Don’t answer questions about the press conference. I’ll have further instructions soon.”

  I’m out the door before Manny and Joaquín.

  Andrew stands across the corridor.

  I trip as if I’m learning to walk for the first time. My brain hadn’t been ready to bump into anyone right now, let alone the guy I’ve been keeping secrets from. “What are you doing here? You have a game coming up in a few minutes. Shouldn’t you be getting prepped?”

  He marches over to me. “What in the name of Odin have you done?”

  “Ugh. Not right now, Andrew.” I walk away.

  “Wait!” Andrew matches my pace. “I just want to understand. Was that stunt part of the plan you told me about? Or did the president ask you to do it for him?” I walk faster, but he catches up to me. “You begged me not to protest, Lana. Now you’re taunting the Sire in front of the whole bloody world.” Andrew entwines his hands behind his head. “Why?”

  He’s chosen the wrong career path. He’d be better off working for the freaking bureau.

  “This is part of my plan, but I can’t explain it right now.”

  Andrew cuts in front of me. “You asked what my mum said. She told me not to protest. That it’s like slapping a bull’s-eye on my forehead. The Sire could hurt the ones I love most.”

  I cringe for a split second but recover quickly. “Your mother’s a smart woman.”

  “She’s the only family I have left. And she knows better than anyone what the Sire’s capable of.”

  Right. I’d forgotten Ms. Galloway had studied at Foxrose. She’d been in the same class as Edward Barnes and President Turner. What if Ms. Galloway knows what the Sire wants?

  “You keep changing sides like it’s nothing.” Andrew bends his knees so we’re eye to eye. “One day, you’re this, and the next day, you’re that. How am I supposed to trust you?”

  His words are worse than a slap. How dare he act all high and mighty? Thinking I’m some confused, shady person with no regard for the lives of those she loves. Trying to make amends with him is exhausting. I still have Samira. She and I can crack the Sire’s code together.

  I don’t need Andrew Galloway. I never did.

  “I’m sorry I disappointed you, Andrew. Best of luck on your match today.”

  I don’t look back on my way to the box seats. Andrew doesn’t stop me, either. Maybe this is another mistake. I should keep him on my good side in case I have to rely on him later.

  Or maybe it had always been a mistake to trust a Dragon Knight’s best friend.

  When Regulars first discovered the magical community in 1743, reactions were mixed. There were those who feared the rise of an oppressive regime, but with the bureau’s numerous efforts to create all-inclusive policies, these fears were assuaged. Magical-history and dragon-studies classes became mandatory in the Regular educational system, along with more dedicated magical-study programs at the university level. Regulars could study and work alongside magic users. However, it would be unwise for Regulars to believe t
here are no more secrets being kept from them. Of course, we still have secrets. So do dragons. I suspect theirs are much more exciting.

  —Excerpt from Edna Clarke’s Magical History for Regulars, Twelfth Edition

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “I’M FINALLY LIVING MY DREAM OF REENACTING AN EPISODE OF Law & Order: Magical Crimes Unit, but without the car chases and sexual tension.” Samira zooms her phone’s camera in on her silly grin, then zooms out to show the box of Kleenex and the new Copper wand resting on her lap. Her wand is a little thicker than her previous victim, lacking any other adornments.

  “What time’s Director Sandhar picking you up?” I’m lying in bed with my phone aimed overhead. Everyone else is at the habitat or the gym while I’m seizing my chance to talk to Samira before she disappears to a mysterious location courtesy of the bureau.

  “He told Mom he’d be here in an hour, but there are a couple of agents stationed outside my house.” Samira grins even harder. “I’m going to a hideout, girl.”

  “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “Not really. Daddy and Shay aren’t too happy with just up and leaving everything, but they understand why it’s important.” Samira blows her stuffy nose. “Hopefully, this hideout will have healing powers and get rid of this dang cold already.”

  I sit up, slouching. “Those meds still aren’t working?”

  “Oh, they were, but the cold came back out of nowhere like an undead creature. Zombie colds are the worst.” She turns serious all of a sudden. “You should know I’m absolutely terrified for you. You’ve poked a really dangerous bear, Lana, and you still haven’t told me why.”

  “Don’t worry. What matters is you and your family will be safe. The bureau’s done an excellent job at hiding the Fire Drake. It’ll do an excellent job at hiding all of you.”

  “Yep.” Samira wiggles her eyebrows. “Can we talk about dragons now? I don’t know how much time I’ve got left here.”

  I could kiss the screen. “Be my guest.”

  Samira runs to the dry-erase board on her bedroom wall, grabs her blue marker, and taps a list scribbled in the center. “Behold!”

  Regeneration

  Body

  Magic

  Blood

  I don’t see any correlation between those words. “So, what’s your theory?”

  “What happens if you cut off one of the nine heads on a Hydra?” Samira says.

  “It grows back.”

  Samira taps the word REGENERATION on the board. “Hydras are the only dragon species that can restore their bodies after a serious injury. They can regenerate in no time.”

  “Which is why the Sire may or may not still have one in his army.”

  “Oh, I don’t think the Hydra’s a soldier. You were onto something.” Samira flips the phone back to herself. “It hasn’t been seen by the Sire’s side since the Athens attack, has it?”

  I shake my head.

  “Exactly. Now tell me which dragon species keeps the flesh of its enemies.”

  “The Pluma de Muerte.”

  “And what does this creature do with skin?”

  “Well, they claim it as a prize after battle. Others just leave it behind as a scare tactic.”

  “And what else?” Samira waits in vain for me to speak, but I’m drawing a blank. She sighs in frustration. “What did we learn about, like, one percent of Pluma de Muertes in our dragon-studies class? Specifically in regard to the sound they use for bone removal?”

  I almost drop my phone. “It can also mold flesh into any shape.”

  Samira taps the word BODY on her board. “The Pluma de Muerte creates. The Hydra restores. All these years, the bureau thought—”

  Someone knocks on Samira’s door.

  “Ms. Jones? This is Agent Sienna Horowitz with the bureau. We’ve come to escort you to your new living quarters. Are you set for Transport?”

  “Just a minute!” Samira power-erases everything on the board. When her words are gone, she says, “Stay safe, and keep your guard up at all times!”

  “Got it. I love you, Samira.”

  “I love you, too. Don’t die.”

  After we hang up, I’m still racking my brain for what Samira’s theory could be. The Pluma de Muerte creates. The Hydra restores. She’d been seconds away from saying something about the bureau, but what do they have to do with these dragons’ powers? And how do these powers benefit the Sire? He’s immortal, so the Hydra’s regeneration is useless. Same goes for the Pluma de Muerte’s ability. The Sire doesn’t need human flesh.

  I slap both hands to my cheeks.

  Regeneration. Body. Magic. Blood.

  Edward Barnes used his blood to create his curse. His magic as a Gold Wand had made the spell possible. And he’d forced the Sire into a human body that can regenerate.

  The Sire doesn’t need these dragons as soldiers. He needs them as ingredients.

  “Oh my God. He’s trying to turn back into a dragon.”

  Time slows to a stop. I’m in some sort of other dimension, where I’m getting punched to the core endlessly. Of course the Sire would want to become a dragon again. It never occurred to me it would actually be possible. The Sire freed those dragons so he could manipulate them. He risked everything to spring them from their sanctuaries. Now they owe him.

  He can’t have Barnes’s blood to complete his spell. Barnes doesn’t have any family left.

  I think Takeshi needed to bring the crystal heart to a Gold Wand working for the Sire, Samira told me right after the Waxbyrne incident. Maybe they’re strong enough to force the heart to perform magic. What if the wish granted by the Fire Drake’s crystal heart was never intended for Takeshi? Could the wish’s power replace the blood needed to break Barnes’s curse? Randall seems a whole lot stronger than Barnes ever was. He could be strong enough to bend the heart to his will. He’s the Sire’s magic for the counter curse.

  All the pieces line up. The Sire is only missing the crystal heart.

  I sigh in relief. He’s never getting it. Just like he’s never finding my loved ones.

  I should check on Papi. Maybe the bureau hasn’t picked him up yet.

  He’s not answering. He doesn’t reply to my texts, either. For a split second, I start breathing a little faster, then I remind myself he could be with the bureau already. I’m obviously not calling Todd. He’s probably going to the same hideout as Mom, seeing as Todd’s a minor.

  I shouldn’t do this, but the least I can do is let her know I really do want her to stay safe. I dial my mother’s number before I can regret it.

  She doesn’t pick up, either. I try four more times. Nothing. That could just mean she’s busy moving to her hideout. It could also mean she’s refusing to talk to me. As understandable as that is, she really can’t drop her ego for just one second? Is she still that pissed at me? Whatever.

  I take my phone to the gym, where I hope to forget about hearts and gold for a few hours.

  HISTORICALLY SPEAKING, BLAZEWRATH QUARTERFINALS ARE where the most upsets occur.

  My favorite one is still Venezuela versus Ireland in 1973. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched that match on BlazeReel. European teams remained the popular choice to move on to the semifinals, even though Venezuela’s upcoming debut was as talked about as my team’s. But the Irish Spikes had been no match for the Furia Rojas. This dragon species can eject spears from their bloodred tails. These weapons are as sharp as they’re fast, capable of piercing through any Regular or magical material. By the time Colin McGrath, the Irish Runner, had entered the first Block Zone, half of it had been demolished.

  But the biggest quarterfinals upset to date is the 2013 Japan versus France match. Takeshi’s debut had drummed up some excitement, seeing as he’s the youngest dragon rider to have Bonded with his steed, but it was Hikaru who stole the show. It took him ten and a half seconds to reach the goalpost. That’s the fastest dragon to fly in a Cup match on record. Takeshi scored a second later. Haya Tanaka, th
e Japanese Runner—or as everyone calls her, the Ghost of Shibuya—unleashed the winning stream of flames in ten minutes. The French Blockers couldn’t catch her.

  Everybody’s A-game is kicked up a thousand notches during quarterfinals. I don’t think this year will be any different. The teams moving on have been divided like so:

  GROUP D

  Argentina versus France

  GROUP C

  Venezuela versus Sweden

  GROUP

  B Scotland versus Egypt

  GROUP

  A Puerto Rico versus Zimbabwe

  Quarterfinals matches will only last two days, with two matches each day.

  We’re playing first.

  And we’ve been ordered to win again.

  “You’ll advance to the next round,” President Turner tells us in our greenroom.

  “And if we don’t?” I ask.

  “We will,” Victoria says. She’s as pleasant as a thunderstorm on a beach day.

  President Turner nods. “But if you don’t, the Sire will order your deaths by burning.”

  Everybody but Victoria is slack jawed. She looks at President Turner as if the thought of us losing a match is the most outlandish thing she’s ever heard.

  “Awesome,” I say dryly. “Thanks for the heads-up, Mr. President.”

  “I’m so sorry, my dears. He wants you to understand what’s at stake.”

  “Oh, we understand it quite well,” Gabriela says. She’s hugging Edwin and Génesis with her head down. “We’re going to win.”

  “Absolutely,” Héctor says. “There’s no other option.”

  My teammates put their hands on top of one another and pretend to be enthusiastic about what’s about to go down. I can’t tell if ordering us to win again means the Sire is happy with me. He hasn’t summoned me again. He hasn’t burned anything since the Cup started. President Turner hasn’t been tripping or shaking. My friends and family have been safely delivered to Director Sandhar’s secret lodgings. Samira and her family are together. Mom and Todd are together somewhere else. Papi is alone. Director Sandhar said he had put up a fight, pleading to stay with the Pesadelos. He’s reportedly livid with me, but he’s safe. That’s what matters.