Page 29 of Wooing the Wiccan
“What’s that all about?” she whispers. “The penalty and the streaker?”
I pull a face. “He’s human and doesn’t know.”
Her mouth drops open into a perfect O. “Why did you bring him?” she hisses.
“It was an accident!” She obviously doesn’t recognize me, because it’s been a long time since a stranger has castigatedme. “But I can’t think of a reason to leave that won’t make him suspicious, so?—”
She holds up a hand. “Say no more. Distraction is key. We’ve got you.” She turns away to talk to the people on her other side, and I straighten in my seat.
“What did she want?” Jared asks softly, his eyes still on the ice.
“To ask if I have a mint,” I lie. “I don’t.” At least that part is true.
He nods, then leaps to his feet to cheer as the Glaives steal the puck and race down the ice, thankfully not noticing the way my seat neighbor is now leaning forward to whisper to the people in front of us.
The rest of the first period passes without disaster, and the group in front of us, an incubus, a sorcerer, and a vampire, turn around to engage us in casual conversation during the intermission, keeping Jared’s attention away from the rest of the crowd. I give my neighbor a grateful smile, and she winks back.
My phone vibrates.
Eoin:
How’s it going?
Raðulfr:
A few close calls. The people near us know and are helping to run interference.
Eoin:
Can you pretend to be sick?
I consider it for a moment. Sure, I could pull it off, but it would mean another lie, and one that’s likely to make Jared worry about me. I hate that idea. Plus, he’s having fun. Aside from the occasional panicky moment on my part, this date is a success.
Raðulfr:
No.
The players skate back out, and I put my phone in my pocket, ignoring the vibration as a new message arrives. Eoin’s just going to have to accept my decision. I’ve been managing things just fine so far, and now I have help.
That help proves itself five minutes into the second period, when some dragons in the next section over send up some magical lights to celebrate the Warhammers’ first goal.
“Let’s start a wave!” my neighbor shouts, surging to her feet and throwing up her arms, and the people surrounding us immediately do the same, momentarily blocking our sightlines. She must have told them all while I wasn’t paying attention.
Jared and I belatedly join in, though when we sit again (after having successfully started the wave), he looks toward where the dragons are sitting. “I could have sworn I saw fireworks or something,” he says.
“Probably laser lights,” the felid shifter behind us announces. “Kids bring them everywhere.”
Jared glances over his shoulder at the man. “Good point.”
“Thank you,” I mouth, and get a firm nod in return.
We’ve made it almost to the end of the period when one of the bigger Glaives’ players checks a Warhammer into the boards right in front of us. We’re close enough to see the buckle on his helmet give way as the helmet pops off…
“Is he wearinghornsunder his helmet?” Jared asks incredulously.
I open my mouth to give a reason for that absurdity, but the life force isn’t finished fucking with me yet. The teenagers sitting in the front row are jeering and shouting taunts, and thebig demon Warhammer raises his gloved fists and slams them against the plexiglass.
It cracks.
