“What happened to your rider wasn’t Coup’s fault,” Bekn cut in. “Besides, you need a publicist, too.” He forced a tight, practiced smile.
Kel shook her head so violently that her rickety stool swayed. Had Dira forgotten that KelhatedCoup? Hated every thrill-seeking fiber of his being? Hated that he loved the glittery media attention? Hated everything he stood for?
“Absolutely not,” Kel barked. “Coup and I would have to train with Savevery day. We’d have to…” She trailed off, too many objections trying to force their way up her throat.
“We’d have to spend every hour working together.” Coup’s eyes drifted over Kel, heavy, unimpressed. “I told Bekn I’d rather walk into a kraken’s mouth.”
Kel’s upper lip curled. Having to work closely with Warren Coupers would be like trying to put out fire with gasoline. He would be constantly trying to creep beneath her skin, refusing to listen to her guidance and risking Sav’s health. Worst of all, he’d take pleasure in knowing Kel had no choice.
Maybe Sav would bite his head off. But that was a single ray of hope amid the nightmare her day-to-day life would become.
“Coup has already been dropped from three teams. He obviously can’t be trusted,” Kel implored, turning to Dira. “Why would this time be any different?”
“Because ofsponsorship,” Bekn cut in. “I’ve had meetings with lots of interested sponsors. But because Coup’s… ah, methods… are usually different from our teammates’, it’s been hard to find a sponsor willing to endorse the entire team. However, if we joined the Howlers, a younger, more open-minded team, I’d have a better chance of convincing sponsors that our goals are aligned.” He gave Kel and Coup a pointed look. “All we have to do is play the part of a happy, healthy team.”
Coup sighed, resting his arms on the sticky wood. He was far too close for Kel’s liking, pressing his shoulder against hers to fit around the small table.
“It might be a lost cause, Bek,” Coup said. “Kel certainly is. The stick up her ass is wedged so deep, every time she opens her mouth you can see the other end.”
A headache twinged behind Kel’s temples. Before she could bite back, Dira cursed. “For Alchemists’ sake!What choice do we have,Kel? We all need the money. And until we can secure sponsorship, desperation is more likely to help us win than anything else.”
Kel glared at Dira. “I just don’t—”
She never finished her sentence. At that moment, a shriek sounded outside, and a storm blasted through the room.
FIVE
Shock waves surged through the inn, shaking the walls and knocking empty stools to the ground. Kel braced herself. All insults forgotten, Kel, Dira, Coup and Bekn exchanged worried frowns as another unholy scream wrenched apart the air.
Kel elbowed through the crowd to the inn’s creaky porch, Dira and Coup following close behind her. Dread knotted her stomach.
At the center of an empty construction zone across the narrow street, a flash of pale red flapped two hazy wings. Slightly smaller than Savita, its beak was sharper, longer than most phoenixes, more like a sword than a knife.
Kel stared at the phoenix batting its wings in confusion, and the disheveled man to its right, dressed in singed sapphire clothing and holding a collar in the air like a trophy.
Shit.
Kel’s breath shallowed, cold sweat trickling down her forehead.
They were all going to die.
Another man knelt on the rough ground, his shaking hands grappling for the phoenix’s halter and leash, which were still tiedaround the creature’s neck. But the phoenix—newly free—thrashed about in wild uncertainty. The creature sent rosy trails of smoke into the air and released another bone-chilling shriek that made the porch tremble.
The halter and leash would be of no use. They were flimsy things used to guide phoenixes, not overpower them. Collars were the only true means of control, and this man had removed it.
Kel glanced to the right. There was a public aviary next door, where traveling CAPR crews kept their phoenixes during racing season. The man on the ground still wore his security lanyard from today’s race; he must have been the bird’s tamer.
The other man waved the silver collar in the air, addressing his audience: “Phoenixes will rise! The creatures of Salta were born to rule—and nature is fighting for their rights. You cannot tame fire, just as you cannot douse its fumes!”
Kel saw a tattoo below his wrist: two overlain double spirals; one red, one blue.
The Fume’s symbol.
Nausea blurred Kel’s vision.
A few other CAPR racers inched forward, as if to help the kneeling tamer. Then another, louder, primal scream escaped the phoenix, halting their steps. Despite the growing heat, goose bumps broke out across Kel’s arms.
Another screech tore through the air, and a painful blaze of heat forced everyone back to the porch.
