Sweet Blood of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #1)

Sweet Blood of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #1) Page 33

He looked adoringly at Cindy. "Because she is."

"Oh dear," I said, sounding just like my mom whenever I'd done something awful.

Mr. Hubble gave Alan a suspicious look then let Cindy go of her own recognizance. She walked over to Alan, light returning to her formerly glazed eyes.

"I'm so sorry for attacking you. I don't know what came over me."

He took her hand. "I kinda liked it."

She smiled. "Me too." She looked down at his shirt. "Oh no, I've ruined it. Maybe I can sew some new buttons on during class."

"That'd be sweet." Sweat beaded on Alan's forehead and his hand trembled. I knew the feeling all too well.

"You two should go on a date," I said. "In fact, I think Alan was saying he wanted to take you to dinner."

Her eyes brightened. "You do?" She squeaked, looking at him in such rapt joy my eyes got all misty.

He nodded, his vocal cords obviously locked by his nerves. They walked into class, Cindy excitedly telling everyone she had a date. I wouldn't have doubted it was her first date ever. I sucked in a breath through my teeth. My own nerves were a bit jittery. I had almost caused a major disaster…a calamity even. I could have brain damaged two of the school's brightest and ruined our chances at the next Academic Decathlon.

Or maybe I'd stumbled onto something really good. I felt kind of high on life now something had worked out. But I was in so far over my head I didn't know which way was up. No more trying to figure this out on my own. Elyssa wouldn't help me. In all likelihood she'd convince herself to kill me at some point. I had to give in to Stacey.

I cringed at the thought. If it wasn't for that cat tongue of hers, a relationship might actually be kind of nice. Now that I knew what she was I felt slightly better even if it freaked me out. After the game tonight, I would find Stacey and seal the deal.

The thought made me shudder.

The rest of the day flashed past. Before I knew it, my teammates and I were lined up and dashing between the cheerleaders for our grand entrance onto the football field. Bryan Jones met Marty Ledbetter and the referees for the coin toss. The Lanier Bobcats won the toss and took first possession.

Coach Wise motioned me over before the kickoff. "The Davis boy hurt his foot, Case. You're going in on special teams."

I had only practiced with special teams once. "What do I do?"

"Tackle their ball carrier."

I hadn't had much practice tackling since I was on offense, but I had a general idea. Our team would kick the ball off a tee, and the other team would catch it and try to run it back. It seemed simple enough. My nerves flopped in my belly like leaden fish. I needed to go to the bathroom for the tenth time, it seemed. I took some deep breaths to calm myself. They didn't help. My enhanced eyes caught sight of a furtive shadow atop the broadcaster's booth. I could make out Stacey's smile from a hundred yards away.

"Just great," I muttered. My soon-to-be felycan girlfriend was here, but my absentee parents didn't even know I was playing. Dad had gone from heavy drinking to hiring private eyes, dropping off the radar, and tracking the Conroys, whoever they were. As far as I knew, he hadn't even been home for days. Maybe he was tracking down Mom. Taking charge of his life and trying to make things right with her. I hoped so. But I was going to tie him to a chair and interrogate him the minute he walked through the door. Despite the bizarre situation, I felt a pang of regret and wished my parents could see me play.

The whistle sounded. Momentary confusion scrambled my brain just as our kicker sent the football soaring end-over-end toward the opposition. I snapped out of my haze and sprinted forward. I locked eyes on the ball, racing after it as it arced slowly toward the other end of the field. I ran into someone and heard a loud grunt as they bounced off my body. Within seconds, I was standing about where the ball would land. I realized with a shock I had been running much faster than I'd meant to. In fact, I was standing right in front of the Bobcat's receiver. He gave me a very surprised look. I gave him a sheepish grin. I felt horror wash over me as I realized I didn't even know how fast I'd just run down the field. This was bad. Very—

Someone smacked into my back and I sprawled into the receiver. The ball bounced off his helmet and away from us. A pile of red jerseys from our team covered it just as several more people piled atop me and the poor receiver. I was on top of him, face-to-face. His eyes were still wide. I tried to look away, but found it very hard to move my helmet without dislodging all the players on top of me.

"Nice run," he said.

"Thanks." I whistled innocently.

The weight lessened and we were able to get up. Teammates slapped me on the back, hooting and hollering like I'd just bought them all camouflage camping gear.

"Spectacular, boy, just spectacular," said Coach Wise as he welcomed me back to the sideline. "I ain't never seen nobody run like that. Now get out there and give 'em hell." He slapped me on the ass.

Confusion clouded my brain. Bryan and our offense took the field, and it slowly dawned on me that we had recovered the ball on the Bobcats' twenty yard line.

My psychic stomach made angry noises in my head. I was running low on energy. I hadn't done anything to recharge since my failed attempts earlier in the day, and I had no idea how much I'd burned in that idiotic run of mine at the start of the game. I went into the huddle.

"Awesome play," Bryan said. The other players were all grins and pats on the back.

"I had too many energy drinks before the game," I said. "I'm a little jittery."

"Well, you're gonna put that energy to good use. Bulldozer left on three."

The huddle broke. The left side of the Bobcats' defense looked like a brick wall. The right side looked like an iron curtain. Their guys were huge. They all looked to be Nathan's size. To top it off, I wasn't feeling so great. The incessant churning in my guts grew worse. I heard the hike count and ran forward on automatic. Two massive defensive linemen buried our offensive line. The Bobcat linebackers leapt over the line, making a beeline for me. I dodged back to the right, nearly slipping in the grass before my cleats found purchase. The situation on that side was even worse. A sea of green jerseys poured over a gap in our line. I had nowhere to go but the center.

Bryan managed to help our center push a guy the size of a silverback gorilla to the side. I slipped into the gap. I heard the smack of helmet on helmet and saw stars. A gong rang in my ears. My feet flew from underneath me and my back kissed the earth with a thud. Bryan helped me up. My legs felt like mush. I limped back to the huddle. In the distance, I heard someone shout my name.

"Hold the damned line," Bryan said. "Not even Justin can break through their entire defense."

Technically, I could, at least when I had a full tank. Ravenous hunger rolled over me in waves of nausea. I gagged.

"You okay, Case?" asked one of the linemen.

"I'm not feeling so good," I said.

"Buck up, soldier," Bryan said with a grin. "Let's push this through and you can take a break."

I nodded.

We lined up. I focused everything I had on the end zone and on my legs. The ball came. I surged forward. Something huge and green dove in my way. I jumped and heard a roar from the crowd as I hurtled over the Jolly Green Giant. A linebacker came at me from the side. I stiff-armed him and he went down. Then something crushed me from the other side.

Chapter 23

A feminine blood-streaked face stared at me, eyes wide and overflowing with terror. Ragged breaths tore from the woman's throat as she gripped my shirt and pulled me closer. I looked down at her legs and stifled a shout. Torn ribbons of flesh, blood, and bone were all that remained of her legs. A crimson trail led down a sidewalk and into a house that seemed terribly familiar. I leaned toward the woman and strained my ears to understand the faint words coming from her mouth.

"…forty-three eleven," she said gasping for breath. "They must be stopped. But the others don't want—"

I jerked awake to the sharp odor of ammonia. A dull roar echoed in my ears and I smelled dirt and grass. The blurry figures hovering over me sharpened into focus.

"He's okay. Just had the wind knocked out of him," said a guy in a medic uniform.

Bryan and one of the other guys helped me stand up. The crowd cheered.

"And he's gonna be okay," said the hillbilly announcer.

They set me down on the bench and Bill Chauncey, the normal halfback, took my place. The bench creaked. On my left sat Coach Burgundy with a grin plastered on his face. He put an arm around me.

"Son, if you lose this game for us, I promise you will not like the consequences." Not a trace of friendliness existed in that grin.

"I honestly don't feel good," I said. "I'm not faking it."

We watched as the Bobcats sacked Bryan for a loss. Coach Wise screamed for special teams to try for a field goal.

Coach Burgundy squeezed my shoulder. "Boy, I don't care if you just crapped your britches. Just stay downwind of me and score. The sheriff and his boys have a lot riding on this game, not to mention a few other people who would not be happy to lose. You get what you need from Coach Howard. He's got some stuff that'll patch you right on up."

I groaned and looked over at the milling herd of coaches on the sideline. Whatever Coach Howard had wouldn't help me. That much I knew. I felt like I had stepped into a redneck version of The Godfather. And that dream—it had seemed too vivid to be my imagination and very close to the nightmares I'd had about the baby and the pregnant woman. I must have had a few nuts in my head knocked loose from that last hit.

Special teams kicked the field goal. Our defense took the field. At least we had big louts like Nathan, I figured. The Bobcats' offense didn't look nearly as impressive as their defense, but they had a quick runner and their quarterback was a passing threat. Bryan, on the other hand, was only good for short passes. He had a good arm, just no accuracy.