Page 64 of The Fake Divination Offense
Maybe I should ask about them. Maybe, if they’re going to upset him like this, Ineedto.
I quicken my pace and snatch his hand in mine. He glances up at me, but instead of pulling away or giving me that sad look again, he smiles. Relieved.
We push through the doors that lead us back into the hotel’s entryway, where the gala’s in full swing. People linger around the bar here, and in the ballroom, a band plays; I’m almost certain that’s Darian on guitar.
“Dance with me?” I ask Alexo.
But he’s frowning at someone in the entryway, and my whole body goes icy with rage. If it’s Tem here to whisk Alexo away again—
I follow his gaze, but it’s a group of people talking. And looking at their phones.
In fact, most of the people in the entryway are looking at their phones and speaking in the hushed way of discussing something scandalous.
Still holding Alexo’s hand, I head over to the nearest group of my teammates—Aaron and a few other defensive tanks. They all have their phones out, and I barely manage a “Hey, what’s going on?” before Aaron’s giving me a sympathetic look.
Sympathy?
He crooks his phone at me. “You heard yet?”
Alexo and I look down at his screen.
It’s a news alert.
BREAKING: Boston, MA: Disciples of Galaxrien Vossen have once again attempted to resurrect the demon lord, this time via human sacrifice.
An adventure party apprehended the cultists and rescued the victim. The victim, a forty-year-old human male, is a member of the Church of Urzoth Shieldsworn, the known rival of Galaxrien Vossen. The cult was purportedly working off intel that Galaxrien’s mortal descendant is being hidden by the Church of Urzoth to “prevent his enemy from seeking righteous revenge.”
The victim has no known demonic ancestry. When informed of that, one of the cultists in custody responded, “Oops.”
The official spokesperson for the Temple of Galaxrien Vossen once again issued a statement condemning these ceremonies, saying the extremists are not endorsed by the Temple, as “Galaxrien’s authorized prophesied return will happen a century from now, and will not involve any mortal descendant of his, least of all a live sacrifice.”
The Church of Urzoth Shieldsworn was unavailable for comment.
My stomach drops straight to my toes.
A humansacrificenow? Not just a piece of hair? The guy got rescued, but still.
Aaron pulls his phone back. Too late, I realize he’s watching me for my reaction, and I can’t work through my shock quick enough to school it off my face.
I’m a defensive tank on his team. Urzoth’s my patron god; I should react to this with violent anger. Offended, rampantfury.
But I’m horrified.
Aaron, though, doesn’t seem surprised by my reaction. He doesn’t get disgusted by my quiet alarm; none of the other defensive tanks standing with him do either.
They give me solemn nods of support. Someone pats me on the shoulder.
“If you need to step out for a bit, I’ll cover for you,” Aaron offers.
They’re—helping me?
My teammates in Vegas would have been reaming me out for being such asoft, pathetic embarrassment.
But Aaron and the others are dismayed by the news report, and the fact that I am, too, isn’t even in question.
“Thanks,” I say, gratitude heavy in my tone. I take a step past him. “I—”
Alexo doesn’t move with me.
