Chapter Seventy-Five: Everybody Wants to Look Dangerous
Roman woke with Vesper's ass approximately six inches from his face.
He stared.
Seven long tail plumes covered half the pillow.
The seventh—slightly shorter—rested across Roman's nose.
He blew upward.
The plume moved.
Then fell back.
Roman:
“Ves.”
Vesper clicked without turning around.
“Move.”
No.
Roman reached for her.
Vesper hopped directly onto Nyxara.
Nyxara woke with a violent inhale.
“Fuck—”
Vesper settled on her stomach.
Nyxara stared down.
Then at Roman.
Roman pointed.
“She started.”
Nyxara's violet-black hair covered half her face.
One small horn showed through it.
“You woke her.”
“She had tail in my nose.”
“You survived.”
Roman:
“Everybody keep saying that like it's permission.”
Céleste made a sleepy noise from somewhere near the foot of the bed.
Roman looked.
White fox ears.
Blanket mound.
Of course.
Nyxara slid closer while Vesper remained on top of her.
Roman:
“You got bird.”
“I know.”
“Why coming closer?”
“Warm.”
“I'm warm?”
“Yes.”
Roman looked offended.
“You literally infernal.”
“Different heat.”
Nyxara tucked herself against him anyway.
Roman stopped complaining.
For approximately eleven seconds.
His bedside slate chimed.
Once.
Then again.
Then five times in rapid succession.
Roman reached.
Nyxara caught his wrist.
“No.”
“Could be important.”
“It's eight twenty.”
“Important happen morning.”
“No.”
The slate chimed again.
Roman:
“See?”
Céleste, still buried:
“If it's Cassiel, throw it.”
Roman got it.
Not Cassiel.
Kei.
A short moving image opened.
The first thing Roman saw was a dark-brown rabbit face extremely close to the lens.
Roman blinked.
Kei backed up.
Roman sat upright.
“Oh shit.”
Nyxara opened both eyes now.
Kei's voice came through:
“Come outside.”
Roman:
“Bro.”
“Don't say it.”
“You look—”
“Don't.”
Roman grinned.
Kei had transformed fully.
Not the broken half-beast mess from Wreckway.
Not a wolf-shaped lycan with hare ears.
This was Kei.
Just—
more.
Lean, upright rabbit-hare body.
Dark-brown fur deepening nearly black along his forearms, lower legs and back.
Long expressive ears, one still carrying the old torn notch near the tip.
A proper short rabbit tail visible when he turned.
Strong hare feet.
Long legs built like springs.
Humanlike hands with dark claws just beginning at the fingertips.
His face stayed recognizably Kei—rabbit muzzle, narrow eyes, familiar irritated expression.
Silver markings ran from one shoulder down his side in thin route-like lines.
They glimmered when he moved.
Roman's grin became enormous.
“Hard.”
Kei:
“I knew you'd say that.”
“Where you at?”
“Old delivery yard.”
“Why?”
Kei moved the slate.
Behind him, three Nadar couriers were setting up wooden barricades.
Corvan Ash stood on a loading roof.
Dare was eating breakfast.
Roman:
“Oh.”
Kei:
“They cleared me for controlled movement.”
Roman was already getting out of bed.
Nyxara:
“No.”
Roman:
“What?”
“You're not skipping food.”
“Eat there.”
Céleste's head emerged.
“I'm coming.”
Nyxara:
“You're going back to sleep.”
“No.”
“You're barely awake.”
Céleste stood.
Blanket still around her.
“Awake.”
She immediately walked into the bedpost.
Roman stared.
Céleste:
“Didn't happen.”
Vesper launched from Nyxara's stomach and landed on Roman's shoulder.
Roman winced.
“Talons.”
Vesper adjusted.
Nyxara sat up.
“You're going to watch the rabbit hurt himself.”
“Controlled movement.”
“That's exactly what he'll call it.”
Roman smiled.
Nyxara caught the front of his shirt before he escaped.
Pulled him back.
Kissed his cheek.
“Eat.”
“Yes ma'am.”
She released him.
Roman blinked.
Nyxara smiled.
“See? Control.”
“Manipulation.”
“Same neighborhood.”
Céleste:
“You say that too much.”
Roman:
“Everybody hating early.”
Vesper clicked directly beside his ear.
Roman:
“You too?”
The phoenix pecked his hair.
Good morning.
Kei ran into a wall.
Not hard.
Enough.
Roman folded over laughing.
Kei turned.
Full Blackwarren form.
Dark-brown fur.
Silver markings.
Long ears thrown backward.
Black rabbit feet planted against concrete.
“You done?”
Roman couldn't breathe.
“Bro—”
“First turn was narrow.”
“You been doing deliveries here since twelve.”
“My body wasn't shaped like this!”
Roman straightened.
“Wall same.”
Kei:
“Fuck you.”
Dare sat on a delivery crate eating fried dough.
“Again.”
Kei looked at him.
“You ain't helping.”
“I'm entertained.”
Corvan stood above them on the old loading awning.
“Route Four.”
Kei's ears immediately rotated toward him.
Roman noticed.
Corvan tossed a small red marker.
Kei caught it.
“Where?”
“Roof Three. East stairs. South loading dock. Back here.”
Kei looked at the yard.
Roman knew the route.
Tight.
Rails.
Two walls.
A delivery alley.
One jump between warehouse roofs.
Kei:
“Time?”
Corvan:
“Don't worry about time.”
Kei's face said fuck that.
Roman smiled.
“Race him.”
Kei looked.
“You?”
“Yeah.”
Corvan:
“No powers.”
Roman:
“Obviously.”
Kei:
“He's gonna cheat.”
Roman:
“Why everybody—”
Céleste:
“Because you cheat.”
Roman looked behind.
Céleste had arrived carrying breakfast.
Vesper perched on a streetlight above her.
Roman:
“You supposed support.”
Céleste handed him a wrapped sandwich.
“Eat.”
Roman:
“Damn.”
Kei dropped into a starting stance.
And that was where Roman really saw the difference.
Not canine.
Not crouched predator.
Rabbit.
Weight forward.
Long legs compressed underneath him.
Hands loose.
Ears angled backward.
Whole body looked loaded.
Like somebody had turned a courier into a released spring.
Corvan:
“Go.”
Kei vanished.
Not literally.
Fast enough Roman's eyes had to catch up.
One stride.
Two.
Then Kei hit the first delivery barrier.
He didn't go around.
One foot planted.
Whole body snapped upward.
He cleared it.
Touched the side wall.
Changed direction nearly ninety degrees without losing most of his speed.
Roman stopped chewing.
“Oh.”
Kei hit East Stairs.
Didn't use stairs.
Rail.
Three touches.
Roof.
Dare:
“That's new.”
Corvan:
“Yeah.”
Kei crossed the rooftop gap.
Not flying.
Jumping.
Powerful rabbit legs launched him farther than Roman expected.
Silver route marks flared along his calves.
He landed.
Almost overran the roof.
Caught himself.
Disappeared around the next edge.
Roman:
“He faster than before.”
Corvan:
“Acceleration.”
“Top speed?”
“Don't know.”
Dare:
“Stopping speed is currently ‘wall.’”
Roman laughed.
Kei reappeared above the south loading dock.
Jumped.
Landed against a vertical surface.
Pushed off it.
Hit ground.
Turned.
Back toward them.
Then something changed.
A delivery worker shouted:
“HEY!”
Roman turned.
A kid—maybe nineteen—was sprinting out of the warehouse holding a sealed courier case.
Not theirs.
One of Nadar's.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
The thief hit the alley.
Corvan didn't move.
Dare barely looked.
Kei did.
His head snapped toward the sound.
Silver markings flashed.
His route changed.
No hesitation.
No turn preparation.
One instant running toward Roman.
Next—
sideways.
Cut the Line.
Kei crossed the thief's escape path at an angle that shouldn't have worked.
The kid looked over.
Saw giant dark rabbit.
Made one excellent decision.
“OH FUCK.”
Then one bad one.
Tried changing direction.
Kei intercepted.
Not tackle.
He simply arrived where the thief needed to be.
The thief bounced off Kei's chest.
Hit the pavement.
Courier case skidded.
Kei caught it with one foot before it reached a puddle.
Roman:
“YO.”
Kei looked down at the thief.
Then at the case.
Then back at Roman.
He smiled.
Rabbit teeth.
Silver-red eyes.
“Delivery.”
Dare applauded slowly.
Corvan finally jumped down from the awning.
Roman:
“You knew?”
Corvan:
“Suspected.”
Roman:
“That's why route?”
“Wanted to see if Kei noticed movement outside assigned path.”
Kei:
“You used me as security test?”
“Yes.”
Kei looked offended.
Then thought.
“How'd I do?”
Corvan:
“Good.”
Kei immediately stopped being offended.
The thief groaned.
“Get this fucking rabbit off me.”
Kei:
“I'm not on you.”
The thief looked up.
Kei was indeed standing two feet away.
“Still.”
Roman crouched beside him.
“What you steal?”
“Nothing.”
Roman looked at courier case.
“That's impressive nothing.”
“It ain't yours.”
Roman:
“Actually whole territory kinda—”
Céleste:
“Don't.”
Roman stopped.
Right.
Executive disease.
Corvan took over.
“Come on.”
The thief:
“Police?”
“No.”
That worried him more.
Corvan pulled him up.
Not violently.
Didn't need to.
Roman looked at Kei.
Full transformation still stable.
“Feel?”
Kei flexed one leg.
“Like I could run through a building.”
Dare:
“Don't.”
Kei:
“I said feel.”
Roman circled him.
Kei stared.
“Why you inspecting?”
“Form hard.”
“Stop saying hard.”
“Natural colors better.”
Kei's fur was almost the same dark brown as his ordinary hare traits, only richer through the transformed body.
Black hands.
Black feet.
Silver markings.
Short tail.
Torn ear.
Kei.
Not a random monster wearing him.
Roman:
“Still you.”
Kei's expression shifted.
Small.
“Yeah.”
Roman understood what that answer cost.
Didn't make it bigger.
Instead:
“Can you kick?”
Kei:
“Probably.”
Roman:
“Kick Dare.”
Dare:
“No.”
Kei:
“Why Dare?”
Roman:
“Closest.”
Céleste:
“Roman.”
“Testing.”
Dare:
“Test yourself.”
Roman:
“I'm eating.”
Vesper swooped down.
Landed on Kei's shoulder.
Kei froze.
“Again?”
Vesper clicked.
His long ear turned toward her.
She pecked it.
“Hey.”
Roman:
“She like bunny.”
Kei:
“She's trying to eat me.”
Vesper settled.
Kei sighed.
Didn't move her.
Good.
Everybody wanted to look dangerous now.
Roman noticed it before he reached registration.
Mana pressure.
Everywhere.
Not enough to count as attack.
Just—
posturing.
A minotaur near the west gate let earth mana bleed off his body.
The concrete around his boots felt heavier.
A fire-affinity woman farther down the queue radiated dry heat.
Two vampire applicants stood near a betting kiosk leaking cold crimson pressure at each other while pretending not to.
A broad man with water affinity made the air around his table feel deep enough that the cups trembled.
Crownless security kept shouting:
“CONTAIN YOUR PRESSURE IN THE QUEUE.”
Nobody listened until fines started.
Roman walked through it.
Céleste beside him.
Kei, back in ordinary hare-blooded form for now, behind.
Vesper flew overhead.
Cassiel met them at the inner gate.
“What happened to breakfast?”
Roman:
“Ate.”
Cassiel looked at Kei.
“He looks different.”
Kei:
“Thank you for noticing after Roman stared at me twenty minutes.”
Roman:
“Bro looked cool.”
Cassiel:
“I assume this is medically cleared.”
Kei:
“Mostly.”
Cassiel stared.
Kei:
“Yes.”
Better answer.
Roman's attention drifted.
Not visually.
Something else.
The mana pressure around him had a taste.
He'd noticed it before.
At Rook.
At the showcase.
But there had always been too much happening.
Now—
a fire-aligned fighter leaked near him.
Heat touched Roman's skin.
His hunger stirred.
Not blood hunger.
Not emotional resonance exactly.
Related.
Roman inhaled.
The heat moved.
He stopped.
Looked around.
The fighter hadn't noticed.
Roman inhaled again.
Not air.
Something underneath it.
Loose mana.
The pressure thinned.
Roman's eyes widened.
Céleste looked at him.
“What?”
Roman:
“Wait.”
He turned toward the water-aligned man.
Invisible depth pressed around the kiosk.
Roman reached for it instinctively.
Same way emotion sometimes opened toward him.
The leaked mana was already outside its owner's channels.
Discarded.
Unbound.
Roman pulled.
The drowning pressure flowed toward him.
Cold first.
Then mineral.
Then something like rainwater over metal.
His own mana pool shifted.
Not much.
Enough.
The water-affinity man stopped mid-sentence.
Looked around.
His pressure was gone.
“What the fuck?”
Roman swallowed.
“Oh.”
Céleste's ears snapped upright.
“You ate it.”
Roman:
“I think.”
Cassiel stopped walking.
Kei:
“Ate what?”
Roman looked toward the fire fighter.
Reached again.
The ambient heat around her vanished into him.
She turned.
“Hey.”
Roman froze.
“Sup?”
“Did you just drain me?”
“No.”
She looked at the suddenly normal air around herself.
Roman considered.
“Your leak.”
“My what?”
“Stuff outside you.”
Cassiel's recording crystal rotated toward Roman.
Roman pointed.
“No.”
Cassiel:
“I haven't done anything.”
“You thinking.”
Céleste:
“Everybody says that now.”
Roman ignored them.
The fire fighter frowned.
Then intentionally released mana.
Heat rolled out.
Roman's hunger reacted instantly.
She saw his eyes change.
Roman pulled gently.
The heat narrowed.
Flowed toward him.
Disappeared.
Her internal mana hadn't moved beyond what she'd voluntarily emitted.
Threatglass kiosk numbers confirmed it.
Her reserve stayed essentially the same.
Leakage dropped because Roman was consuming what escaped.
The woman stared.
Roman smiled.
“Thanks.”
“What are you?”
Roman:
“Hungry.”
Kei started laughing.
Cassiel:
“Can you do that to a spell?”
Roman looked toward him.
“Don't know.”
Mireya's voice came over Roman's communicator before anyone called her.
“Do not test that here.”
Roman looked around.
“How you hear?”
“Cassiel's production channel.”
Cassiel:
“She monitors the sensor feed.”
Mireya continued.
“You appear to be absorbing ambient discharged mana, not active reserve.”
Roman:
“So free food.”
“No.”
“It's literally loose.”
“Roman.”
The minotaur nearby released another pulse, intentionally bigger.
Probably trying to prove something to his friends.
Concrete groaned.
Roman looked.
His hunger opened.
He drank the edge off it.
The minotaur's friends stopped talking.
The minotaur looked down.
Then at Roman.
Roman:
“Keep leaking if you want.”
The man contained immediately.
Kei:
“You just made mana flexing expensive.”
Roman smiled.
Good.
Crownless had discovered its first anti-posturing predator.
The qualifier wasn't a fight.
Yet.
First they tested whether people could exist around other people without turning the hallway into a natural disaster.
Three applicants entered the ring.
Each stood inside separate containment circles.
Roman sat above with Cassiel and Mireya's remote data pane.
No commentary booth.
Just watching.
Applicant One:
Varkesh stone-blood mercenary.
Applicant Two:
Namarrian chain fighter.
Applicant Three:
A young adult Serevan technomancer who had already complained twice that Floodline's measurement equipment was “provincial.”
Ren had heard.
Ren was now sitting three seats away.
Angry.
Roman:
“Don't.”
Ren:
“I haven't said anything.”
Layla:
“He rewrote one sensor.”
Mireya's voice over communicator:
“He did what?”
Ren:
“Improved.”
“REN.”
Roman laughed.
The test instructor raised a hand.
“Leak to ten percent.”
Stone-blood first.
Pressure arrived like a building settling.
Hard.
Dense.
Not simply gravity.
The ring floor gave a tiny sound.
Ten percent.
Held.
Contained.
Good.
Namarrian woman next.
Water.
The air tightened around Roman's throat even from the upper row.
Deep.
Cold.
Controlled.
Ten percent.
Held.
Serevan technomancer smiled.
“Observe.”
Ren muttered:
“Already hate him.”
The technomancer leaked.
Nothing happened.
Roman frowned.
Then every loose metal object in the ring moved three millimeters.
Static.
Magnetic.
Aetheric current.
The sensor pane flickered.
Ten percent.
Then twelve.
Instructor:
“Contain.”
The technomancer:
“I am demonstrating tolerance.”
“Contain.”
“Your equipment is reading return noise.”
Ren stood.
Roman grabbed his coat.
“No.”
Ren:
“His coupling model is wrong.”
Roman:
“Sit.”
“He's blaming our sensors.”
“Our?”
Ren stopped.
Roman smiled.
Got him.
Then Roman tasted something wrong.
Not the technomancer.
Behind.
Heavy.
Hot.
Someone in the applicant tunnel was leaking deliberately.
A lot.
Too much.
Roman turned.
Crowd shifted uneasily.
Security looked toward the tunnel.
Pressure rolled out.
Infernal.
Dense enough people started stepping away.
The ring instructor swore.
“WHOEVER IS PRESSING THE TUNNEL, CONTAIN!”
No response.
Roman's hunger opened.
The mana tasted burnt.
Sulfur.
Blood.
Iron.
He pulled.
Harder this time.
The pressure rolled toward him.
People gasped as the weight lifted.
Roman's mana rose.
One percent.
Two.
His horns prickled beneath his hair.
The tunnel cleared.
And with the pressure gone—
Roman saw the thing it had been hiding.
A man in maintenance gray moving against evacuation flow.
Small black case under one arm.
Niko Senn stood at the threshold ten yards away.
Six silver rings around his antlers.
His head turned.
He saw it too.
“GRAY COAT.”
The man ran.
Kei moved first from the lower rail.
Not fully transformed.
Didn't need full.
He vaulted the barrier.
Corvan emerged from fucking nowhere.
Roman:
“Of course.”
Gray Coat threw the case.
Not toward exit.
Toward the ring.
Niko lifted one hand.
Threshold field snapped shut.
The case struck invisible resistance and dropped.
Kei hit Gray Coat from the side.
Not hard enough to break him.
Enough.
Corvan arrived.
Ended it.
Fast.
The entire thing took maybe five seconds.
Crowd started shouting.
Cassiel:
“Keep cameras off the tunnel.”
Production staff obeyed.
Roman looked toward the dropped case.
Mireya's voice:
“Don't approach.”
Roman:
“I wasn't.”
Everyone around him looked.
Roman:
“Okay, I was.”
Security cleared it.
Case opened remotely.
Inside:
three sealed medical wraps.
One ampoule.
Black-gray residue.
Roman's face went cold.
He recognized the color.
Wreckway.
Corvan looked up toward him.
Not confirmation yet.
Didn't need to be.
Roman sat back.
The Serevan technomancer inside the ring raised one hand.
“Are we continuing?”
Everyone stared.
He looked around.
“What?”
Tessa Brann, watching from lower seats, shouted:
“I LIKE HIM.”
The crowd laughed.
Pressure broke.
Roman did too.
Life continued.
Corvan opened the case after the null team cleared it.
Roman stood behind the line.
Kei beside him.
Niko on the other side.
Six rings.
Exactly six.
Roman counted automatically.
Kei:
“You always count?”
Roman:
“Yeah.”
Niko:
“I've noticed.”
Roman looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why ain't say?”
“I was curious how long you'd continue.”
Roman:
“Everybody fucking with me.”
Corvan:
“Focus.”
Roman looked back.
Medical wrap.
Ordinary at first glance.
Athletic compression cloth.
Inside the seams—
powder.
Anti-vitae precursor.
Not the full Wreckway formulation.
Enough to contaminate a wound.
Kei's ears lowered.
“That for him?”
Corvan:
“Maybe.”
Roman:
“Maybe who?”
“Could've been intended for any vampire entrant.”
Kei looked at Roman.
Roman:
“Don't.”
Kei:
“You know it's you.”
“Could be other vampire.”
Corvan:
“Could.”
He did not sound convinced.
Niko:
“How did they pass first gate?”
Corvan:
“Legitimate applicant credential.”
“Name?”
“Real.”
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“Registered fighter. Actual person. Actual history. Gray Coat isn't him.”
Roman:
“Stole identity?”
“Or bought access.”
Kei:
“Who fighter?”
Corvan gave the name.
Roman didn't know it.
Good.
Not everybody had to be secretly related to everything.
“Find him.”
“Already.”
Roman looked at the wraps.
“Drelle?”
“No evidence.”
“Crimson?”
“No evidence.”
“Wreckway people?”
“Same reagent family. That's all.”
Roman hated “that's all.”
Because that's all was how stupid theories became plot holes.
Corvan closed the case.
“Let evidence catch up.”
Roman looked at him.
“That's annoying.”
“Yes.”
“Good advice?”
“Yes.”
“Still annoying.”
Corvan:
“Good.”
Kei's ears suddenly turned.
A betting clerk outside shouted:
“ROMAN'S FLOODGATE ODDS JUST MOVED!”
Roman immediately forgot patience.
“What?”
Corvan:
“Of course.”
Roman was the underdog.
He stared at the board.
WEST FLOODGATE WET-RUN EXHIBITION
TIN VOSS — 1.71
ROMAN DUVALL — 2.18
Roman:
“Bullshit.”
Gideon stood behind him.
“No.”
Roman:
“He beat me once.”
“Which is relevant.”
“Different road.”
“Yes.”
“Different car setup.”
“Same drivers.”
Roman stared at Gideon.
Gideon drank.
“Old hater.”
The private race book was full.
Not arena-full.
Enough.
People had realized tomorrow's supposedly small local rematch involved Roman.
That had destroyed the “small” part.
Tin's electrician crew had their own table.
Warehouse workers beside them.
Floodline street racers.
Rook students.
A few nobles trying very hard to look like ordinary gamblers while wearing shoes that cost more than the betting terminals.
Roman looked toward the private salon.
Corvin sat at a card table.
Arielle beside him.
Avaros at the betting screen.
Lucien reading something.
Maris eating fruit.
Roman walked in.
“Who bet?”
Corvin:
“On what?”
“Me.”
Corvin looked toward Arielle.
Arielle:
“Not yet.”
Roman:
“What mean not yet?”
“Your odds may worsen.”
Roman stared.
“You waiting for me less likely?”
“So the return improves.”
Roman:
“That's cold.”
Arielle:
“That's betting.”
Avaros turned from the board.
“I HAVE WAGERED ON YOU.”
Roman smiled immediately.
“See?”
Avaros:
“BECAUSE THE ELECTRICIAN'S RETURN IS INSULTINGLY LOW.”
Roman's smile died.
“So money.”
“ALWAYS.”
Corvin laughed.
Lucien didn't look up.
Roman:
“You?”
“I don't wager on children driving through flood infrastructure in rain.”
Roman:
“Boring.”
Maris:
“I wagered you finish.”
Roman looked.
“That's option?”
Gideon from doorway:
“Everything is an option if enough people want it.”
Roman looked back at board.
There.
ROMAN FINISHES WITHOUT VEHICLE DISABLING DAMAGE — 1.39
Roman:
“Why odds low?”
Gideon:
“Because most people think you finish.”
Roman relaxed.
Then another line:
ROMAN TOUCHES WALL / BARRIER — 3.80
Roman:
“Remove.”
“No.”
“That's disrespect.”
Tin's voice behind him:
“I took that one.”
Roman turned.
Tin Voss stood there in work clothes.
Roman:
“You bet I crash?”
“Touch.”
“Same.”
“No.”
Roman:
“How much?”
“Two hundred.”
“Broke ass.”
Tin:
“Electrician.”
Roman:
“Tomorrow I'm taking money.”
Tin:
“You're working eight-hour shift if I win.”
Roman:
“Not happening.”
Tin:
“You've already asked what boots we wear.”
Roman stopped.
Tin smiled.
Roman:
“Research.”
“Fear.”
Before Roman could answer, Nyxara entered the private salon.
She'd changed out of lab clothes.
Dark streetwear.
Violet-black hair down.
She came straight to Roman and leaned against his side.
Roman's arm went around her automatically.
“You done?”
“For now.”
“Prototype?”
“Nine.”
Roman looked.
“Nine?”
“Eight died.”
“Damn.”
“Useful death.”
Good scientist answer.
Nyxara looked at race board.
Then at Roman.
“2.18?”
“Disrespect.”
She opened her slate.
Placed a wager.
Roman:
“How much?”
“No.”
“On me?”
“Yes.”
Roman smiled.
“How much?”
“No.”
Arielle:
“She's correct. Never disclose wagers before settlement.”
Roman looked between them.
“Y'all becoming friends?”
Nyxara:
“She's intelligent.”
Arielle:
“So is she.”
Roman:
“Dangerous.”
Corvin:
“Extremely.”
Vesper flew through the open salon arch.
The casino staff barely reacted anymore.
She landed on the back of Roman's chair.
Avaros stared at her seven tail plumes.
Vesper stared back.
Avaros:
“THE BIRD HAS BEEN LOOKING AT MY CHIPS.”
Roman:
“She steals.”
Vesper immediately grabbed one.
Avaros:
“THIEF.”
Roman started laughing.
Vesper launched.
Gold-edged black wings.
Purple fire.
One casino chip in her beak.
Avaros stood.
“RETURN MY WAGER.”
Roman:
“Get robbed.”
Arielle laughed.
Even Lucien looked up.
Vesper circled the chandelier.
Avaros watched.
Roman:
“You ancient infernal sovereign getting hustled by bird.”
Avaros:
“I WILL NOT BE MOCKED IN A CASINO BY POULTRY.”
Vesper screamed.
Everyone stopped.
Roman:
“You called her poultry.”
Avaros looked at Vesper.
Vesper's violet flame doubled.
Avaros:
“PHOENIX.”
Better.
She dropped the chip.
Into Roman's hand.
Roman stared.
Then looked at Avaros.
“Mine now.”
Avaros:
“ROMAN.”
Roman ran.
Nyxara laughed hard enough to bend over.
Actual family afternoon.
The route was meaner in person.
Roman liked it immediately.
West Floodgate's maintenance ring had never been designed for racing.
That was why Tin liked it.
Six-point-eight miles.
Concrete service road.
Old pumping infrastructure.
Short covered tunnels.
Open sections running along the floodwall.
Two sharp descents where runoff crossed the lane.
Three places where the road narrowed between structural supports.
No combat.
No intentional magic.
No gravity assistance.
No fucking around.
Tin stood beside Roman at the route entrance.
Xyra.
Mireya.
Layla.
Ren.
Vaelora.
Nyxara.
Céleste.
Eirene farther back beside her little silver Aureline.
Astraea with her.
Sera sitting on a concrete barrier.
Kei came because Kei apparently wanted to run parts of the course on foot.
Roman had told him no.
Kei had interpreted that creatively.
Vesper circled overhead.
Gideon stood near the officials.
The rain hadn't started properly yet.
Mist coated the road.
Tin pointed.
“Turn Three.”
Roman:
“I saw map.”
“You saw a map.”
“Same.”
“No.”
They walked.
Not drove.
Tin's rule.
Roman hated that too.
At Turn Three, the concrete looked ordinary.
Tin kicked water toward it.
The thin surface film moved strangely.
Roman crouched.
“Polished.”
“Thirty years of service vehicles.”
Roman touched.
Smooth.
Tin:
“You enter fast, front washes wide.”
Roman:
“Brake before.”
“Good.”
Roman looked up.
Tin:
“You learned.”
“Don't sound shocked.”
Tin:
“I watched you drive three weeks ago.”
Roman:
“Fuck you.”
Layla:
“He's right.”
Roman:
“Why you always here?”
“Because this is fun.”
Ren:
“And because she wants you to lose.”
Layla:
“That too.”
They continued.
At the first descent, an unofficial spectator cluster had already formed beyond the barrier.
One guy saw Roman.
Immediately released mana.
Fire.
Hot pressure.
His friends reacted.
Roman stared.
The man expanded it farther.
Trying to look dangerous.
Important.
Big.
Roman smiled.
Nyxara saw.
“Don't.”
Roman:
“He wasting.”
The man pushed.
Heat rolled across the barrier.
Roman opened his hunger.
Pulled.
Heat flowed off the road.
Into him.
Gone.
The man stopped.
Looked at his hands.
Roman:
“Appreciate you.”
His friends lost it.
The man:
“Yo, what the fuck?”
Roman:
“Contain your shit.”
Gideon looked over.
That phrase was going into regulations by tomorrow.
Roman could feel it.
Nyxara:
“Any effect?”
Roman checked himself.
“Warm.”
“Mood?”
“Fine.”
“Mana?”
Mireya looked at Threatglass.
“Up point-six percent.”
Ren:
“That's terrible conversion.”
Roman:
“Free.”
Ren thought.
“Fair.”
Céleste:
“Don't encourage.”
Roman looked toward another spectator leaking cold pressure.
They immediately contained.
Word had spread.
Good.
Tin:
“You gonna do that tomorrow?”
Roman:
“Can't eat own race crowd?”
Gideon:
“No.”
Roman:
“Why?”
“Uncontrolled external resource.”
Roman:
“But they leak at me.”
“Still no.”
Roman sighed.
“Everything fun banned.”
Tin:
“It's called racing.”
Roman looked.
“Exactly.”
The first real rain began while they were underground.
They heard it through drainage pipes.
Then saw water entering along the tunnel mouth.
Roman smiled.
Tin:
“You keep smiling at rain.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Harder.”
Tin:
“That applies to both of us.”
Roman:
“I'm better reaction.”
“I'm better judgment.”
Roman stopped.
That was the whole race.
He knew.
Didn't like it.
Kei jogged past them.
Full Blackwarren.
Roman stared.
“You ain't supposed—”
Kei:
“Jogging.”
“That ain't jog.”
Kei's long dark ears flattened as he accelerated.
Lean rabbit body.
Dark fur.
Silver route lines.
No bulky monster nonsense.
His feet slapped wet concrete.
Then barely touched it.
He reached the tunnel curve.
Planted one foot against the inner wall.
Rebounded.
Changed direction.
Kept moving.
Roman:
“That's cheating physics.”
Ren:
“No.”
Roman:
“Everything you say no.”
Ren:
“Because you misuse words.”
Kei reached the far end.
Stopped cleanly this time.
No wall.
He turned.
Raised both arms.
Roman:
“Progress!”
Kei bowed.
Then Vesper dove over his head.
Kei ducked.
“YOUR BIRD.”
Roman:
“She training.”
“For what?”
“Life.”
Vesper turned and chased him back through the tunnel.
Kei ran.
Now actually fast.
Vesper followed.
Roman laughed.
Tin watched.
“Your country is weird.”
Roman looked around.
Ancient flood infrastructure.
Teen prince arguing with engineer.
Rabbit lycan being chased by phoenix.
Dragon inspecting drainage.
Succubus taking race notes.
Worldscript prince rewriting rain telemetry.
A girl in a century-old silver roadster waiting outside.
Assassin investigation somewhere behind all of it.
War several hundred miles farther west.
Roman:
“Yeah.”
He liked it.
They did one reconnaissance run.
Not race.
Tin first.
Roman fifty yards behind.
Xyra passenger with Roman.
No gravity.
No overt magic.
The Gravesend rolled onto wet concrete.
Roman felt everything.
New quarter panel.
Fresh alignment.
Tires warm enough.
Rain increasing.
Visibility acceptable.
First turn.
Earlier brake.
Smooth.
Xyra:
“Good.”
Roman accelerated.
Tin's taillights ahead.
Second.
Roman wanted to close.
Didn't.
That was harder than acceleration.
Turn Three.
Polished section.
Roman braked before instinct wanted.
Front stayed planted.
Turn.
Throttle only after line settled.
Xyra:
“Good.”
Roman:
“You keep saying.”
“Keep doing.”
Fair.
Tunnel.
Engine noise multiplied around them.
Aether-hybrid drive beneath mechanical combustion.
Rainwater flicked from tires.
Tin remained ahead.
Not pulling away.
Not racing either.
Roman's hands tightened.
Xyra noticed.
“Relax.”
“I am.”
“No.”
Roman relaxed fingers.
Next descent.
Water.
The Gravesend moved half an inch sideways.
Old Roman would've corrected immediately.
Roman waited.
Car settled.
One input.
Straight.
Xyra:
“There.”
Roman smiled.
Then a red warning flashed.
RIGHT REAR PRESSURE -4%
Roman:
“What?”
Xyra looked.
“Nail?”
“Already?”
“Slow.”
Roman slowed.
Tin saw.
Pulled over at next service bay.
Both motorcars stopped.
Roman got out into rain.
“Fuck.”
Right rear tire.
Thin metal shard.
Not sabotage-looking.
Just road garbage.
Tin crouched.
“Maintenance screw.”
Roman:
“Race route got screws?”
Tin:
“Floodgate.”
“Clean.”
“You gonna clean six miles personally?”
Roman:
“Government.”
Tin laughed.
Roman stared.
Then laughed too.
Xyra opened the trunk.
Mechanical jack.
Physical tools.
No magic required.
Good.
Roman started reaching.
Xyra slapped his hand.
“You know how?”
“Yes.”
She stared.
Roman:
“Mostly.”
Tin:
“Let him.”
Xyra looked.
Tin:
“If he's driving, he should know.”
Roman:
“See?”
Xyra:
“If you drop the car, I'm killing both of you.”
Roman:
“Reasonable.”
Ten minutes.
Wet knees.
Cold hands.
One wrong jack point corrected by Tin before Roman loaded it.
Roman:
“I knew.”
Tin:
“You did not.”
“Was checking you.”
“Sure.”
Vesper landed under the service canopy.
Dry.
Roman stared.
“You got fucking fire.”
Vesper clicked.
Roman:
“Warm me.”
She turned away.
“Wow.”
Nyxara's motorcar arrived behind the support vehicle.
She stepped out holding an umbrella.
Roman looked at her.
“You following?”
“Yes.”
“You dry.”
“Yes.”
“Help.”
“No.”
She smiled.
Roman:
“Everybody evil.”
Kei arrived on foot thirty seconds later.
Completely soaked.
Full rabbit form.
Fur plastered around his ears.
He looked miserable.
Roman stared.
Kei:
“Don't.”
Roman laughed.
“Wet bunny.”
“I will kill you.”
Roman:
“You look like—”
Kei pointed.
“Finish that sentence and I bite.”
Roman:
“You don't got vampire bite.”
“Teeth still work.”
Fair.
They replaced tire.
Roman did most.
Slowly.
Correctly.
Tin checked torque.
Xyra checked again because she trusted nobody.
Roman wiped rain off his face.
Looked at the road.
Race tomorrow.
Now he understood one more thing.
Road didn't care about levels.
Bloodlines.
Mana.
Titles.
It could beat you with a screw.
That was kind of hard too.
Roman got home wet.
Vesper did not.
He considered this betrayal.
Nyxara had showered first and was already in his bed.
Roman walked in.
Stopped.
She was wearing one of his shirts.
Again.
Céleste occupied the opposite side reading.
Eirene wasn't in bed.
She and Astraea were in the lounge arguing quietly about the Aureline's old gear ratios.
Good.
Mireya's Threatglass case sat open near Roman's desk.
Vaelora was apparently still downstairs measuring her truck against floodgate clearance.
Sera had left a note:
Buttons says Roman wins by 1.3 seconds.
Roman:
“Rabbit betting now?”
Nyxara:
“Apparently.”
Roman changed.
Vesper flew into the room.
Dropped something onto the bed.
Casino chip.
Roman stared.
“You still got Avaros chip?”
Vesper sat proudly.
Roman picked it up.
Ten thousand crown marker.
Roman's eyes widened.
Nyxara sat up.
“No.”
Roman:
“She stole ten thousand.”
Céleste:
“Return it.”
Roman:
“Finders—”
Both:
“No.”
Roman sighed.
His communicator chimed.
Corvan.
Roman opened.
Gray Coat identified. Not Drelle.
Roman sat.
Second:
Real applicant found alive. Drugged. Credential stolen.
Third:
Reagent source overlaps Crimson distributor network, but purchase was routed through two civilian medical brokers. No clean house attribution yet.
Roman read carefully.
Good.
No fake certainty.
No convenient villain.
Then:
One broker disappeared tonight.
Less good.
Roman typed:
find
Corvan:
Working.
Another message.
Cassiel.
CROWNLESS APPLICATIONS: 17,204.
Then:
Tomorrow's race broadcast rights sold.
Roman:
“WHAT?”
Nyxara looked.
“What?”
Roman showed her.
Cassiel sent another.
Small production. No commentary booth. Two fixed cameras, one chase drone, vehicle telemetry only with consent. Gideon approved.
Roman:
“Gideon.”
Céleste:
“You're famous.”
“I know.”
Nyxara:
“You like cameras.”
“Sometimes.”
Another message.
Gideon.
Betting handle passed 2.1 million. Do not crash for entertainment.
Roman stared.
Nyxara laughed.
Roman:
“Everyone getting money off me.”
“Welcome to fame.”
He knew that too well.
The rain tapped harder against the windows.
Roman looked toward it.
His mana hunger still felt strange after eating leakage all day.
Not full.
Satisfied around the edges.
He'd discovered something.
People had started throwing mana pressure around because it made them look dangerous.
Roman could eat what they wasted.
There was probably a lesson there.
He didn't care tonight.
He climbed into bed.
Nyxara immediately stole his arm and put it around herself.
Roman:
“You controlling?”
“Yes.”
Céleste slid closer from the other side.
Not on him.
Close.
Vesper jumped onto the headboard.
Then apparently decided that wasn't enough.
She dropped onto Roman's stomach.
Roman:
“Again?”
Vesper lowered herself.
Nyxara:
“Furniture.”
Roman:
“Everybody furniture me.”
From the lounge, Eirene:
“You complain every time.”
Roman called back:
“Because true.”
Astraea:
“And yet you never move.”
Roman stopped.
Nyxara smiled against his shoulder.
Céleste covered her mouth.
Roman:
“Everybody against me.”
Vesper clicked.
Roman looked down.
“You don't count.”
She pecked him.
“Okay.”
The clock turned.
Roman's slate updated automatically.
SIXTHDAY, 14 THAWWANE, 427 F.C.
A weather pane beneath it:
WEST FLOODGATE
8:30 P.M.
RAIN PROBABILITY: 82%
EXPECTED ROAD TEMPERATURE: 41°F / 5°C
Roman smiled.
Nyxara opened one eye.
“You're doing it again.”
“What?”
“Smiling at weather.”
“Race day.”
She closed her eye.
“Idiot.”
Roman kissed her forehead.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Céleste, half asleep:
“If you scratch the new mirror, Xyra will kill you before the wall does.”
Roman:
“I ain't touching wall.”
From the lounge, Eirene:
“You said that before the curb.”
Roman stared toward the door.
“How many people know about curb?”
Astraea:
“All of us.”
“WHO TOLD?”
Silence.
Roman looked at Nyxara.
Nyxara was smiling.
Céleste was pretending to sleep.
Vesper clicked suspiciously.
Roman:
“Bird?”
Vesper tucked her head beneath one wing.
Roman narrowed his eyes.
Outside, rain covered Floodline.
At West Floodgate, maintenance crews were already sweeping standing water from the worst sections of the course.
At the Crown Freight Bowl, seventeen thousand people wanted into a tournament that hadn't properly begun.
Somewhere in the city, Corvan hunted a medical broker who had sold the wrong reagent to the wrong people.
Old vampires moved money.
Delphine's relatives manufactured royal claims.
Karsov gave up another mile of rail.
Kei Nadar was learning how to be a rabbit twice over.
And hundreds of awakened idiots across Floodline were probably standing in bars leaking mana to look dangerous.
Roman smiled into the dark.
Free food.
Then Vesper dropped Avaros's stolen casino chip directly onto his forehead.
“OW.”
Nyxara started laughing.
Race day had begun.