Page 138 of The Fake Divination Offense
I don’t point out that most of those rituals failed. But, wait—this room will lift into the field?
Every other ritual has been public, or at least reported on; Temwantseyes on them.
The cultists begin chanting, low, murmured words I don’t catch.
And the room shifts.
The walls, the floor; they groan and shudder, and I brace my legs wide as we start moving up.
I clock other items between the cultists’ feet now, all things I have listed on the notepad in my apartment, the elements of the ritual. Including the gods-damned bottle of hot sauce.
My eyes fly to the chains.Bel’sin the handcuffs.
Looking at him stabs into me, a visceral knife gouging deep. I meet his eyes, trying to wordlessly convey a dozen different things.
It’s going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here. I love you, I’m here, I’m going to save you.
I expect him to be terrified, or numb, or grieving, but he’s staring straight at me, eyes aflame.
He mouths a word I don’t understand. Something with anF.
I shake my head in confusion.
He repeats it, over and over, jutting his chin at Tem, who has his arms lifted, his head thrown back.
“Today is the day,” Tem proclaims over the chanting, over the room’s groans as it launches for the surface. “The blood of Galaxrien will free him. The blood of Galaxrien will free him. The blood—”
Movement yanks my focus up. Marlow’s crouched along the I beam that’s holding Bel.
“He’s sayingfake the ritual,” Marlow signs. Thank gods I learned sign language; she’s not wearing her enchanted ring.
Fake the—
I whip a wide-eyed look at Bel.
Fake the ritual.
Steal Tem’s attempt at summoning Galaxrien.
The ceiling peels back so the harsh light of midafternoon plunges down on us. The I beam holding Bel stays in place, the focal point for Tem’s display, and the roar of the stadium rushes in. The game shouldn’t be starting yet, but the field’s moving; the crowd’s going crazy.
The ceiling folds back and the walls collapse as we continue to rise. In a few seconds, we’ll be visible to the entire stadium. To the world.
I shake my head at Bel, panic gripping my throat. He rocks on the chain as the room twists and shudders, and he mouths,Please, Orok.Then,I love you.
That clamp on my throat releases.
We’d barely started to plan. We were supposed to be smart about it, control all the factors.
But Bel’s right. We can hijack this. We can end it all,now.
I whirl down to Seb and Thio, who are crouched over an evocation circle, hands splayed and faces bent in focus.
“Seb,” I whisper. “We’re doing the fake ritual.”
He stares at me for half a second.
A manic grin overtakes him, and I swear he giggles.
