Page 61 of Two Who Live On

Once he’d overpowered the flames, he then shifted his water and hit Tiffany’s back with a wave that propelled her forward alongside her familiar, moving increasingly faster.

“Does she control water, too?” Gael asked. “Multiple branches like Tara, maybe.”

No. Tiffany’s telekinesis was sharp but merely held the form her teammate shaped so she could ride the surfer pose and avoid her levitation root, which she struggled with.

“What can I say? My beaver prefers to be wet before she—”

JesusfuckingChrist. I tuned them out, quelling all thoughts. These two were quite possibly the worst-matched opponents who could’ve been randomly selected. We’d have to censor every innuendo Gael and Tiffany uttered in front of a live audience before posting the Spring Showcase on the academywebsite.

“Oh, come on. You had to hear that one.” Gael dodged the water alongside King Clucks, who fluttered his wings, deflecting the waves and forcing Tiffany to fall back.

King Clucks raced ahead, unyielding and crowing. The rooster leapt, kicking the beaver with a telekinetic strike.

“Duchess!” Tiffany yelled.

Her beaver—ugh, I can’t believe what I’m watching—bounced against the stone flooring and used her tail to propel herself back into the air, floating proudly as she munched on a stick.

Tiffany smirked. “Bet you thought that’d slow us down, but my beaver can take any pounding your cock throws at her.”

“How are you not hearing this?” Gael tugged at his fauxhawk.

“Huh?” Tiffany paused.

Gael considered using the pause to counterattack but found himself compelled to explain. “You see, you’ve got a beaver, and I have a—”

Tiffany sprang forward, taking full advantage of Gael’s delayed reaction to kick him across the face and out of the arena. Unlike Gael, who used cock jokes to incite conversation and clamor for attention, Tiffany used ditzy diversions to lull him into a false sense of security. She high-fived her familiar’s wide tail, proud of their accomplishment. I pinched the bridge of my nose as King Clucks bawked furiously before chasing them. Tiffany and Duchess screamed, wrapped in a tight hug, when the rooster kicked them out of the arena, too.

“Doesn’t count,” Chanelle announced.

“Excuse me?” I snapped.

“Gael was already out, so the rooster’s strike doesn’t count. This is my impartial judgment.” Chanelle raised her cane. “Tiffany and Duchess are still in.”

“King Clucks is not a magical add-on.” I gritted my teeth. “He’s his own person—bird, whatever—and suggesting his combativeassistance doesn’t count is like saying familiars are nothing more than support tools. We all know how you feel about support tools. Is that what you’re saying, Mrs. Whitehurst?”

Tiffany eyed us from the sidelines, petting her beaver. Christ. Did I just say that?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Chanelle pulled the microphone away from her as I levitated closer to her self-proclaimed throne. “While you’re bitching, a competition is happening. One I’m attempting to referee.”

“To cheat, you mean.”

“Oh, Ryan just cuffed Gael.” Her gaze remained fixed on the arena. “I suppose you’ll say he got too handsy.”

“Don’t make evasively crude jokes.”

“What’s your problem?” The microphone caught her voice, and I quieted.

The audience’s thoughts stirred in our direction as the match ended, and Team Two won.

“Whatever.” I floated back to my assigned proctoring spot. “It wasn’t a perfect win, and you know it. Even if you try to cheat the rules for your kids.”

“Don’t just fly away from me, pissy pants.” Chanelle furrowed her brow. “Are you seriously still upset about the showcase? It’s a fucking showcase. You know how they work.”

“I’m going for a cigarette.” I huffed. “I’ll be back for the next match unless Your Majesty Admin-in-the-Making would like to complain to administration about me not carrying my weight while you’ve clearly got their attention.”

Chanelle ignored me, silencing every infuriated thought bursting at her seams and congratulating the winners of the round before playfully announcing the next competitors. I lingered at the doorway long enough to see none of my homeroom students were called. In the parking lot, I smoked, ignoring the excitement inside and stalling my return.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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