Sweet Blood of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #1)

Sweet Blood of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #1) Page 34

What am I going to do? I felt caged. If I continued to do well, I would only trap myself further in this mess. But this was going way beyond my friends getting bad grades. No telling how gangster things would become if crooked cops lost money because of me. I groaned.

The crowd on our side booed and hissed as the Bobcats scored. I tried to open myself up to the emotional energy around me but it was too distant and too negative. The best I could do was sense the nearby disappointment wash over me like rancid milk. It brought a sour grimace to my face.

Bryan grabbed my shoulder. "You okay to come back in?"

I nodded.

Bryan handed me the ball three times. All three times I got flattened. Coach Burgundy shot me a look that made my heart palpitate with fear. Elyssa could probably take care of herself, I reasoned, but not Ash or Nyte. And who else would these bozos go after? To make matters worse, my teammates gave me hurt looks of betrayal. Like I was intentionally playing badly so they'd lose. How had I gone from despising these people to feeling terrible about hurting their feelings?

I wanted to scream in frustration, but it wouldn't do any good. The crowd on our side had gone silent. I spotted Stacey still atop the broadcasting booth, smiling in a mischievous way. She puckered her lips and kissed the air. I spotted Ash and Nyte. Ash bit his fingernails. Nyte gnawed on a corn dog. A few rows to their right, Katie's sad green eyes looked at me. She blew me a kiss. Jenny and Annie sat next to her. They snickered and laughed about something. I looked for Elyssa. I didn't see her. I was hoping maybe we'd lock eyes. She'd smile and inspire me to greatness. "I love you," she'd mouth silently and blow me a kiss. After that, nothing would stop me. Not even the ogres pounding us to mush on the football field.

Am I an idiot or what?

The Bobcats scored three more times. Their defensive line crushed me more times than I wanted to remember or probably would remember due to brain damage from the constant battering. Coach Burgundy was beside himself with rage by the time half-time finally arrived and the team left the field.

"Just what I thought," Nathan said as he shoved past me and into the locker room. "You ain't worth crap, Case."

Bryan gave me a sympathetic look and went into the locker room. I let everyone else go in then slipped away to the side. I threw my helmet down and stared at the parking lot thirty yards away. Now that I played football, it seemed I measured everything in yards. I could just run away. Right now. Why should I stick around?

I could warn Ash and Nyte, and tell them to warn Elyssa. Then I would vanish. Mom was gone, Dad was good as gone, and my life here as I knew it was over. I stalked back and forth at the edge of the parking lot. Why did my conscience burden me so? I walked toward the cars. Nobody was watching me. I pulled off my uniform and left a trail of jersey, shoulder pads, and helmet behind me. I decided to keep on the pants and cleats for decency's sake.

I looked for Stacey, hoping she'd show up so I could cave in to her demands and get on with my depressing life as whatever I was. I looked atop the broadcasting booth but couldn't make out any movement in the shadows. Something warm prickled my senses in the darkness to my left. A large air conditioning unit sat silent in the cool fall air. Giggles echoed from behind it. I sneaked over and peeked around the edge. My former best friend Harry and his girlfriend, who I recognized as Sally Palmer, were making out. She slapped Harry's hands away as he tried to unbutton her shirt.

"Come on, baby. You know I love you," he said.

Ravenous tendrils shot from me like heat-seeking missiles. I couldn't stop them. I felt the heat from Sally's mind, her molten sensuality like lavender-scented steam in the air. I breathed it in as my essence locked onto hers. She gasped. Her eyes went wide. She ripped open her shirt, revealing a lacy white bra. Buttons showered the concrete. Sally grabbed Harry by the shirt. Pulled him on top of her as she pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Holy crap!" he said, shocked. "What changed your mind?"

She didn't answer. She was too busy pecking his scrawny hair-speckled chest with kisses. She reached for his belt. Fear blossomed on his face. White-eyed and trembling, he wrestled her for the belt buckle.

"Are you sure, baby?"

"Shut up and kiss me," she demanded.

He did as he was told, one hand protecting his belt buckle. Energy, pure and delicious, flowed into me as they made out. Their emotions swirled together, a tornado of psychic energy flooding my ravenous psyche and filling it within minutes. I broke the connection with Sally, feeling full and satisfied on the one hand, and a little disgusted for causing and witnessing an almost pornographic scene. Harry had been my friend. It was just gross seeing him and his pale scrawny body trying to get it on with a girl.

"I'm not ready." Harry broke away from Sally's latest attempt to remove his belt, his eyes filled with despair and fright. "I—I thought I was."

"You scaredy-cat," she said. "All that big talk, and now you tell me you're not ready?"

I left them to continue their argument and made my way back to the locker room. I snatched my gear off the pavement and strapped it back on. I wasn't going to abandon my real friends. I was going to figure this thing out and see it through to the end. It's easy to be an optimist on a full, um, psychic stomach, or whatever the heck it was storing the ill-gotten energy. I stood outside the locker room and watched the marching bands cavort on the field for the rest of half-time.

The team emerged from the locker room. Coach Burgundy obviously hadn't given them a cheery pep talk because they looked like a bunch of sad pandas. Some of the guys gave me encouraging slaps or punches to the shoulder. Nathan growled at me.

"You best make up for this mess, boy," said Coach Burgundy from behind me, his hand pressing heavily on my shoulder pad. He hawked, snorted, and then spat into the dirt.

I knocked his arm off my shoulder and turned to face him. "I'll do my job," I said. "But let's get one thing straight. If anything happens to my friends, you'll be making a very dangerous enemy."

He laughed like a country boy on moonshine. "Son, you're about as scary as a house cat."

You have no idea how scary cats can be, jackass.

I trotted back onto the field to receive the ball as the Bobcats kicked off. The ball fell short of me and into the waiting arms of David James, the usual receiver. He pitched the ball back to me a split second before a tsunami of green jerseys washed over him. I found the biggest, meanest looking guy on the other team and charged right at him. A smile lit his face. He had to be six and a half feet tall.

He lowered his head and reached for me with thick meaty arms. I lowered my shoulder and rammed him. He grunted and bowled into the guys behind him. They went down like dominoes. I dodged right past a guy in mid-dive. From there it was clear sailing. I coasted to the end zone while the crowd went crazy. The country coot on the PA system shouted my name like Christmas had just arrived.

The big guy I'd run over was still picking himself up. He staggered around in a drunken haze for a moment before finding his way off the field. I walked over to Coach Burgundy.

"Put me on defense."

He spat. "Defense?"

"Yeah. Seeing how effective they've been, I figure they need a boost."

He nodded. "Johnson, you're out. Case, get in there."

Trip Johnson gave me a look of relief as he left the field. "Crush them," he said, bumping fists with me as I took over his spot on the line.

Trip towered over me, and the Bobcat lineman across from me made Trip look like a Chihuahua. He smiled as I lined up in the shadow of his hulking mass. Apparently he'd missed what I'd done to his teammates on my kickoff return.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Nathan said, grabbing my shoulder pad and spinning me around.

"I'm helping, obviously. So unless you have a problem with that, back off."

Nathan clenched his jaw but did as I asked.

The Bobcats hiked the ball. I darted between my guy and the center and tackled the quarterback before he could even back away. I decided if I did that every time, my mutant abilities would be way too obvious. The next play, I cleared a hole in the line. Nathan roared through and sacked the quarterback again. From then on it was wash, rinse, repeat. Nathan's sack stats were going to be epic.

The rest of the game terribly frustrated the Bobcats. They couldn't stop me from scoring when I ran the ball, and they couldn't keep Nathan or Steve out of their backfield since I kept knocking back their blocker, who by the way, wasn't smiling anymore.

After I scored the touchdown giving us the lead, the crowd chanted my name. It felt pretty damned good. Like they were worshipping me. The rush hit me like a hot fever, and a big grin split my face. This was more like it. I might even grow to enjoy playing football.

The final buzzer sounded and the home crowd erupted with cheers.

Other coaches and players directed many brofists, butt slaps, and high-fives at me. Even Nathan came over, a contrite look on his face.

"Hey, Case," he said in a gruff voice. "Nice work out there." He held out a fist. I punched it lightly and we did the asteroid explosion, sound effects and all. Suddenly, the universe was a better place.

Steve and Adam gave grudging thanks as well. I felt like the man. I felt better than I'd felt in what seemed like forever. This was acceptance. Despite the coercion and outright blackmail dragging me to this point, I loved it.

I showered off, smiling and nodding each time players came in and congratulated me while they lathered up and desperately tried not to drop the soap. It was odd not feeling like a ninety-pound weakling in the locker room. On the other hand, the air reeked of Old Spice. I half-expected to see the Old Spice guy waltz around the corner. As I dried off, I noticed Nathan dousing his armpits with it.

"Why Old Spice?" I asked, trying desperately to block out the odor by force of will.

He gave the spray can a serious look. "Dude. This is the stuff of men."

I flashed back to my headaches and the strange concurrences of Old Spice invading my nostrils. Every jock on the football team probably bathed in it. Now I knew why I smelled it so often. One mystery down. A million more to go. I shook my head. "I'll stick with Axe, thank you very much."