Page 118 of Demon Found

I growl. “All those fucking people . . . ”

“My . . . my parents came. They’re out there somewhere.” He gulps. “I didn’t think they’d show.”

His parents have been gutless assholes this whole year. Ashamed of their son for something far outside his control. For having one element. But they’re his family, and they’re here. No family is ever going to show up for me.

I swallow, hard. I have to pull my head out my ass. Wallowing isn't going to help, him or me. “See, they do believe in you. You’ve got this. You just need to believe in yourself. We’ll all be cheering you on.”

He smiles gratefully as I slink back toward where the others are seated. No matter what, I’ve got these guys on my side. And dammit, I’ll make sure they scream their lungs out for Hewie.

I’ve never seen anyone so beat up, and yet so goddamned happy at the same time. Hewie’s face is a walking contradiction. He stumbles slightly as he makes his way toward us, and Farrell reaches out a steadying hand.

“I did it!”

“You did it, son, well done.” A squat barrel-chested supe scuttles over, towing a bored-looking woman bedecked in finery. As her eyes light on Farrell she gasps, tugging on the man’s sleeve, and drops into a ridiculously extravagant curtsy.

“You . . . you came,” Hewie manages to say, blood bubbling out his nose with the effort.

“Of course, son. I’m sorry, Mr. Cuelebre, Sir. I hope young Hewie is not causing a nuisance. Do forgive him . . . heady after winning his fight.” The pride in Hewie’s dad’s voice is apparent, along with a bizarre deference to Farrell. He tugs desperately on Hewie’s sleeve. “Come on, son, let’s not disturb Mr. Cuelebre.”

“Father, Mother I would like to introduce you to my friends. Zephyr Engill, Lorelei Bal, Chano Maverik and . . .” He pauses, looking fit to burst. “Farrell Cuelebre. Guys, Mr. and Mrs. Ugo, my parents.”

Mr. Ugo splutters for a few seconds, hands flapping, before his wife nudges him hard and he bows suddenly from the waist. “An honor.”

“I do hope my Hewie didn’t shame you by being in the ten percent. He’s so very lucky to call you a friend, sir. I’m sure he’ll do everything in his power to remain worthy.” Mrs. Ugo’s shrill voice takes me by surprise.

Farrell smiles graciously. How the hairy hell is he so unfazed by their utter ridiculousness?

“No shame. In fact, you’ll have to excuse me, one of my allegiance is fighting next.”

“Of course, sir. With just one element too, it’s amazing you’ve taken the time to befriend him . . .”

Farrell pauses and fixes Mrs. Ugo with a stare that would melt ice at the North Pole. “Those with one element are often the specialists, leaving us ‘generalists’ in the dust. Take Zephyr—he has one element, yet he’s the best visionary of this generation.”

Mr. and Mrs. Ugo bow their heads, nodding frantically, hands clasped as if Farrell’s words are scripture. Hewie beams, little screeches of excitement escaping him as he shepherds his parents back to the stands.

Why were they so fucking deferential? Okay, so Farrell is the Virrey’s son . . . that doesn’t equate to royalty. I focus my attention back on the field. Shit. The cheer squad are already at the end of their routine. My head swims.

“Miss Lorelei Smith versus Mr. Seth Smith, please proceed to the arena.”

This is it. My turn.

Chano sweeps me up into a giant bear hug. My face presses hard into his chest. Naeve, Zephyr, and even Farrell encircle me from behind, squeezing so tight it hurts. In a good way. With a deep breath, I fight my way free and march forward.

I prowl forward into the center of the stadium, taking in Seth’s relaxed saunter as he walks toward me. The outdoor arena seems massive, the sandy floor stretching off into the distance. And all these people . . .

The adjudicator flips his microphone off and addresses us directly. “You pass when the other student submits. If your opponent dies you will be expelled but not prosecuted. You have thirty minutes. Bouts without a clear winner will see both students expelled.”

They’re not fucking around. I raise my eyes from the ground and give a firm nod. I understand. No killing, a clear winner or be expelled. And don’t die. Simple really.

“Ready to lose, sister?” Seth hisses, his demon rings flashing.

I take a moment, assessing him properly for the first time. He’s not a strong demon, but he’s not a pushover either. He’s lean and scrawny, and he’s had Collectivo training. He’s going to fight dirty.

His fingers are already twitching, mouth muttering an incantation and we haven’t even started yet.

“May the strongest supe win.” The flag comes down and the adjudicator steps back swiftly.

We pace around each other like animals in a cage, sending out tendrils of magic, testing the other’s barriers. Seth looks confident, his eyes boring into mine, grinning.

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