What’s it been, three months?
The jammer for the Jersey Devils was a mage who went by the name Ima Cutchoo. She was tough for a mage, but she lacked my vampiric stamina and speed. In a real battle, her magic skills might have made her a contender, but the brass armbands we were required to wear put the kibosh on that option. They dampened my magic, but I didn’t need spells to defeat the bitch. I had fists and the need to make someone bleed urging me on.
I slowed so she could catch up, dug in, and bent my knees. Muscles bunched, waiting to strike. Ima fought off bumps from my teammates but passed them easily, earning two more points. On her left, the Marauders’ jammer, Stankerbell, struggled to make it through the gang of Jersey Devils defenders.
The scent of blood filled the arena. Heightened my predatory instincts, made my fangs throb. I turned to glare at Ima. She made eye contact, her eyes sparkling with confidence. My own eyes narrowed with deadly determination.
All around me, my teammates were taking out Jersey Devils to clear a path for Stankerbell. A faery slammed to the floor and rolled into my path. My leg muscles screaming, I jumped her writhing form.
The crowd went insane. Hands and fists pounded wood, urging us on. In the chaos, some fingers might have been rolled over, but it was hard to tell screams of pain from screams for blood.
She was gaining on me. Almost there.
No, that can’t be right. Ninety days?
Ima rode my ass. Her breaths coming out in harsh pants. I could feel her indecision, her brain working to decide the safest path around me. I held myself in check, luring her into a false sense of security. Then, just as she drew up on my right, I threw out my arm like a snake’s strike. Ulna to windpipe—a satisfying crunch.
The force of the blow knocked her feet into the air. She hovered there for a moment like someone hit the pause button for a better view of the action. Gravity kicked in and bam! Her back slammed into the wooden floor with a loud crack as her spine broke.
Whistles screamed. Boos and cheers from the audience.
I skated away. Raised a fist and extended the universal finger salute.
No, wait, ninety-one days. Three months and a day.
Ignoring the threats coming from the Devils’ bench, I allowed my speed to drop and aimed for the center of the round track and Giguhl. He wore his usual green shorts with knee-high tube socks and a T-shirt that advertised the Manhattan Marauders logo. A clipboard and a scowl accessorized his coach’s uniform.
“Seriously, Red?” he demanded. “This isn’t Thunderdome.”
I waved off his judgey tone and bent over with my palms on my knees. I wasn’t really winded. But the adrenaline was already evaporating and in its wake, the now-familiar lethargy pulling at my shoulders.
I glanced up to see the ref point at me and then jerk a thumb, damning me to the penalty box. Heaving a sigh, I stood and put my hands on my hips. I should have been pissed. Put on a show for the audience. But I was too bored to care.
“Nice going, Betty Bloodshed!” This from Stankerbell, the nymph jammer for my team. I cringed at the ridiculous nickname Giguhl insisted I use. In fact, this whole charade was ridiculous.
I looked past Stankerbell to the crowd surrounding the ring. Their mouths stretched to scream, demanding more thrown elbows, more tripping, more pain. Watching their bloodlust, I was overcome with disgust. These mages, vampires, and faeries were nothing more than armchair warriors. They only wanted vicarious violence. But put them in a dark alley with a Vengeance demon and they’d all crap their pants.
I glanced up as the electronic scoreboard flashed the time—one a.m. Scratch that, it’s been ninety-two days now.
From the clock my gaze landed on a familiar face among a crowd. Alexis sat three rows up. Seeing me notice her, she raised his chin and saluted me.
How long had it been for her? Probably hours.
Up in the announcer’s box, Slade stood with his arms crossed. The corner of his lips lifted in a knowing smile.
I looked away from the weight of his stare and took off my helmet. “I’m out of here.” I wasn’t sure if those words were for Giguhl’s benefit or my own.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Giguhl grabbed my arm.
“This is lame, G. I’m not cut out for Roller Derby.” And by Roller Derby, I really meant Roller Derby and everything else my life had become.
“Well, excuse me, Miss Thang. I thought you were the one begging to join the team. Besides, you of all people should enjoy the violence.”
“Skating in a circle wearing fishnets and a helmet isn’t violence, Giguhl. It’s a game. And I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.”
The demon’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about Adam?”
My stomach dropped. I crossed my arms and glared at my best friend. “It’s about everything.”
I don’t know who I am anymore.
The disappointed glare he shot me sent me over the edge.
I threw up my hands. “Gods! Can’t I just have an off night?”
“Okay,” he said. “But if you need to talk, I’m here.”
I looked around the huge room and our audience. Already the refs were preparing to blow the whistle to restart the action. Not the time or the place to get into a discussion about my existential crisis. Not that I was ready to discuss it with anyone. I was done talking.
“Forget it,” I said. “I’m fine.” With that, I took off my helmet and went into the locker room. I could feel Giguhl’s and Alexis’s eyes on me as I skated away.
It’s been ninety-two days since I felt alive.
After I’d showered and changed, I left the locker room. The water hadn’t calmed my itchy nerve endings or my restless muscles. Pent-up emotion and adrenaline mixed to form a dangerous cocktail in my veins.
The hallway echoed with chants from the audience and the rumble of wheels pounding wood. Instead of going through the club’s front door, I slipped out a back entrance. It dumped me into an alley behind the Chinese joint.
I should have gone home. But the idea of spending a night alone with my thoughts held as much appeal as stabbing myself in the eye. Rhea and Maisie were at the Crossroads. But I couldn’t face them right now, either. Not with my head so screwed up. Not with their inevitable questions. Slade was back in Vein. He’d be more than willing to help me work off my excess energy. But I wasn’t looking to repeat that mistake again.
The alley smelled of sour garbage and stale urine. It had started to snow while I was in the club, but the minute the city streets got ahold of them, the pristine white flakes turned into gray slush. I trudged to the end of the alley and stopped. Traffic sped by, kicking up brackish water and soggy cigarette butts. Neon lights flashed like spastic fireflies. I blinked, feeling disoriented as the world spun around me like a gritty kaleidoscope.