Game World. C.J. Farley
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Chad howled and took two menacing strides forward to finish the job.
A blast of fire shot between the Moongazers and Dylan. Dylan scrambled behind a rock where Eli was waiting, his eyes flickering with flame. “Teamwork—remember!”
“Teamwork’s cool,” Dylan panted. “But we need to change the playbook.”
His extra cheat-code powers were wearing off—they never lasted long. He needed a new approach. As a duppy, Dylan could shape-shift into any creature. But what form should he pick?
“I need to turn into something that can fight that thing,” Dylan said.
“Like what?” Eli asked.
“A Rolling Calf?”
“Dude—my fire blast barely fazed him.”
“An Iron Lion?”
“Seriously? You’re not gonna be able to hold that form long.”
The Moongazers were sniffing around the rock. They were closing in. What form should he choose? Then it hit him. If you can’t beat ’em . . .
Dylan turned into a Moongazer.
“Sweet!” Eli said, picking up on the plan.
It was a powerful beast, so he wasn’t going to be able to maintain the shift, but he should be able to do it long enough. He charged.
“What are you trying to pull, Loopy?” said one of the Moongazers. Based on the sneer in his voice, Dylan figured that one was Chad.
Dylan tackled the other one. They wrestled and rolled on the ground and it was impossible to tell who was who—which was exactly what Dylan was counting on.
Chad looked confused. After hesitating, he attacked anyway. One of the Moongazers howled in pain. By mistake, Chad had done in his partner.
Working together, Eli and Dylan handled their opponent quickly. Dylan blocked Chad’s escape while Eli fireblasted his gaseous body into smoke. You know how a lit match can air out a room after someone has let one rip? Same principle.
“You lose,” Dylan said to Chad. “That’s right, I said it.”
Dylan and Eli had won the Tournament of Xamaica.
Eli bumped his fist against Dylan’s. “Dude—that was epic! How did you know he’d attack the wrong Moongazer?”
“I didn’t. But I got a tip this morning about the kind of guy Chad is. So I figured he’d attack first and ask questions later. I guess we just had to get a little lucky.”
The twin wounds across Dylan’s chest began to ache.
“What’s the matter?” Eli asked.
“It’s those scratches. I don’t know why they’re hurting so bad.”
“How bad could it be?”
“Ever put the tip of your tongue against a frozen metal pole? Imagine doing that with your bare chest—and then ripping it away.”
“Gross. Let’s get out of here. Game over.”
Xamaica faded away. Then Dylan and Eli were in the arena and the crowd was cheering all around them. A group of uniformed Xamaica officials came out and ushered the two boys to a circular stage in the center of the arena while the crowd yelled louder.
“So what’s the Grand Major Triple-Secret Prize?” Dylan asked.
“It better be straight-up cash,” Eli said. “If only the dinero in the game was real! Then we’d be talking serious money.”
The circular stage descended beneath the floor of the arena. Emma was waiting there, clapping and waving her bloodstained pirate doll. Dylan, Eli, and Emma were hustled into a hall, through a door, and outside the building. Their escorts left abruptly, slamming the door behind them.
The kids were standing there in an empty alley as a light rain began falling.
Eli scowled. “Well, this sucks canal water. What about the friggin’ Grand Major Triple-Secret Prize? If my wheelchair rusts, I’m gonna be pissed.”
At that moment, a black stretch limo pulled up. A tinted back window rolled down. Someone was clapping. Dylan recognized the dark gaze and the peek-a-boo hairstyle.
“That was beyond awesome!” Ines Mee purred. “Now it gets hard.”
The limo raced down the slick streets as the rain kept falling. Dylan, Eli, and Emma were sitting in the spacious backseat of the car across from Ines. Like an online video that hasn’t quite downloaded, Dylan’s brain was still buffering after winning the tournament.
“Your hair is . . . amazing,” Emma complimented Ines, to break the unsettling silence and because her hair really was amazing.
“I know, right?” Ines stroked the glossy locks that flowed shimmering over the right side of her face. “It’s easy to maintain; the real hassle is flying my styling staff in every weekend from Dubai.”
“Where’s your camera crew?” Emma asked.
“I gave them the evening off. I have important things to do tonight—”
“So when are we going to get our prize?” Eli interrupted.
Ines looked at Eli like she was noticing a stray thread on a designer dress. “So that’s your famous slanket. I saw it in your file.”
“It’s a snuglet,” Eli shot back.
“I know that—Mee Corp. owns the company that makes them. Or we did. We may have sold them off. Something about extreme flammability. Nothing you need to worry about unless you smoke in bed, use a toaster oven, or get an extremely high fever.”
“And why do you have a file on me exactly?”
“How interesting!” Ines said, clapping. “That’s exactly what your file said you’d ask!”
Ines suddenly leaned forward and the tinted glass divider between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat slid down. “We’re being followed,” she informed the driver.
Dylan looked out the back window and saw a pair of red lights. Then he realized they weren’t coming from the car. The motorist behind them was wearing a dark hood that hid his face, though Dylan could see one thing: he had glowing red eyes.
Dylan swallowed hard. “Who’s chasing us?”
“Let