Contention (The Demon Accords Generations #2)

Chapter 1

“Hey, head in the game already,” she said.

I lifted said head, which I was holding in both hands. I was crouched on a little ledge above her and the others. “This doesn’t do anything for me,” I said.

“Vesta, he needs to get with it,” Freia said, angry. Like she knew what anger was. Like any of the others knew what real anger was.

“Hush a moment,” Vesta said to her roommate. She turned her empty black eyeholes on me. “You’re pissed. Super pissed. Use the game as therapy. Let your anger out like you really want to.”

I stood up and jumped down. The others backed off immediately. Not her. She stood there in her yellow-and-black-striped body and waited. “What do you want me to do?”

“We need to prove this team can be contenders. We need a demonstration. So demonstrate,” she said, pointing across the playing area to the waiting team of juniors. There were six of them, surrounding their flag. Our test, our tryout, was to get that flag.

“How much?” I asked her.

“Enough, but not everything.”

“Okay.”

“Go ahead. We’ll watch.”

“What?” Freia asked. None of the other three avatars moved, yet I read their intents—Cole, Taylah, and Therzah. They were surprised and confused.

“Craig, let your anger out,” my girlfriend told me.

So be it.

I dropped a jumper rock, called out its activation word, and then landed on it with both feet.

Instantly I was blasted high in the air, an arc that cleared two thirds of the distance to the other team.

One attempted to shoot me in midair, but the steel BB went wide of my body, my arms and legs tucked in tight like a ball.

I ducked and rolled as I hit the sand, jinking left then right, diving and rolling again, as three more BBs blasted past me, spraying sand high into the air.

Easy to dodge if you know where the shot will hit.

The shooter’s gun arm was empty, because BBs are kind of big compared to an avatar, which gives them maximum damage but reduces the number of shots available.

A front kick to the hip folded the gunner’s avatar and knocked it backward.

The point of contact on its body was no accident.

I had foreseen three versions of that kick and knew which was most effective.

It slammed into the team member behind it, the one that held a shock rod.

Charged magically with a tremendous amount of electricity, the rod discharged in one massive burst, the heat so great, it effectively welded the gunner’s metal frame into a single solid piece.

I pulled a bomb from my vest, whispered its activation word, and threw it at the electro wielder, the sticky spell locking it to the chest as I ran past. It exploded as three more avatars moved forward to meet me.

I looked ahead in time. A solution presented itself. I spoke two words, “Aurora Borealis.”

The avatars looked shocked, if clay people can evince shock. Then the bombs attached to their carry harnesses all exploded at once, destroying them almost completely, just twisted blackened metal frames left in the sand.

I was already charging the last avatar. This one was painted in desert camouflage and wielded a giant axe in one hand and an equally improbable sword in the other.

I had metal hands, no weapons. She swung, and I knew she was a she by her intent, her feel.

I dodged the axe swing, slapped the sword aside, and kicked her in the hip—same place as her teammate.

She folded and I shoved her neck straight to the ground.

Her axe came free as she put the hand under her to push up.

But her press upward only meant my swing of her own axe downward hit that much harder.

The head rolled free, the metal neck stump cut clean through.

I walked over and touched the flag. “Game over. Challengers win,” the umpire called out, and I was opening my eyes on the bench. I turned my head and met a pair of brilliant blue eyes.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yeah. That was kinda fun.”

“Cheaters! They cheated! He knew our activation words,” the leader of the juniors yelled, her voice strident.

“Team espionage is part of the game, Becky,” the umpire, who was a senior year witch, said. “You’ve used it yourself.”

“He utterly destroyed our avatars! We have a game tomorrow!” Becky protested.

“He did… absolutely trash your team… by himself,” the umpire said, nodding. Her name was Tessa, I think.

“But our game…?” Becky protested, except all six of her team’s broken avatars suddenly lifted into the air and began to rebuild themselves simultaneously.

Becky frowned but Tessa turned and looked at Vesta, who was twirling her fingers as the avatars’ frames straightened, spells etching themselves into the metal, clay forming and accumulating on the wires.

Tessa raised one brow and turned back to Becky. “I guess your avatars will be at the game. Now you just need to show up… ’cause from my point of view, none of you showed today.”

“They cheated; she’s cheating now.”

“I am,” Vesta said. “I’m improving your spellwork. Dad taught me a bunch of hacks that you really need.”

“Mona? You detect any magic from Ms. Reynolds-O’Carroll during that beatdown we just witnessed?” Tessa asked another witch who stood near both teams’ benches.

“None. Nada. In fact, other than the jumper and the bomb he used, her teammate used almost nothing magical at all,” Mona said, staring at me, her head tilted. I shrugged.

“I should challenge,” Becky said, looking undecided.

“Challenge?” I asked. “Like fight Challenge? The director said no Challenges.”

“Wytchwar challenges don’t count, Craig,” Vesta said. “She was talking about werewolf ones, not avatar fights.”

“Wait, we can challenge in Wytchwar? No one ever told me that. You never told me that.”

“Uh-oh,” Freia said.

“Because this is a team sport, your little demonstration aside. If I had told you about that, you’d do nothing but beat up all the other players. I want to play Wytchwar, not watch you smear people.”

“But…” I began. Tessa, who’d been listening with interest and a few shared glances with Mona, held up a finger and I obligingly went silent.

“You really want to challenge, Becky?”

“If you challenge my team, you’ll fight my avatar, not Craig’s,” Vesta clarified.

“You know, we didn’t see any of the rest of you in action,” Tessa noted.

“No. Just Craig. He needed the experience,” Vesta said. “The rest of the team has played on my home course, but Craig is brand new to this. He’s mostly been working on his aerial travel. Looked good, by the way,” she said aside to me.

“Hmm,” Tessa said. “Interesting. All freshmen, but the daughter of the game’s inventor. We’ll need to work on the betting odds, Mona.”

“I’m not sure how to handicap him, let alone her,” Mona said.

“Anyway, Vesta’s Valkyries are officially cleared for play,” Tessa said.