“You’re being particularly nice,” Elle said, flying up, peering suspiciously at Linus. “Why are you being all normal all of a sudden? Did you poison their tea because you’re jealous or something?”
Linus gave a nervous laugh.
Bautista held up a hand. “I will serve my friends.” He picked up a kettle he had set aside and poured tea into several cups. He lowered his voice. “This is my breakfast blend. The same tea I served in the guild. But it is infused with the tea leaves I found from a vendor around the corner. It will give your vehicle or mount a 25% constitution buff. It would honor me if you shared it with me. I prepared this one myself.”
“You have enough for everybody?” Imani asked.
He nodded. “I made enough. The Bautista House of Tea will always serve. I have a different blend for those going to the Pineapple Cabaret. It grants a constitution buff. I’ll put that out in a minute. But for now, please allow me to serve you.”
He pulled some cups from his inventory and poured the breakfast tea, handing it to us in turn.
I grabbed the cup. The tea smelled rich and warm with a slight floral scent. It briefly reminded me of a different time, of all of us sitting around the table in the guildhall, sharing breakfast before we left to battle for the day.
Unlike before, the system labeled it as a potion, meaning those of us with longer potion countdowns had to be careful. Ididn’t bother saying anything, however. We were all veterans at this point, and we knew what we were doing.
It would be offensive to assume anything otherwise.
[ 72 ]
Carl:Are we doing this now? Elle, you ready?
Elle: Might as well get it over with. I’m ready.
Carl: You sure you don’t want to do all the talking? It’s not too late. Donut? You’re the one who figured this out.
Donut: IT WASN’T ME. IT WAS THE PRINCESS POSSE MESSAGE BOARD.
Elle: Look, Carl. You’re the one that’s going to be leading all of us to our deaths. You’ve been the face of all this. Can’t change that now. I’ll pipe up when it’s time.
Carl: Okay. Here we go.
I turned to the crowd. Only a few had teacups. Most held bottled beers.
“Crawlers,” I called, my voice deep and booming.
The quiet chatter all calmed down, and hundreds of eyes turned to me. “Those of you attempting this escape, I salute you,” I called out, raising my cup. “Those of you staying but planning to take a deal after the next heat, I salute you. Those of you who are hoping to make it to the parade, I salute you.”
My friends started to spread out into the crowd and turned to face me, raising their cups.
Donut jumped to the table, where Bautista poured her a bowl.
I lowered the tea and cupped it in my hand. I was comforted by the warmth.
“Man, this floor,” I said, shaking my head. “They keep trying to kill us, trying to make us turn on one another. And it worked for a while. We stopped doing it naturally, so now they’re forcing situations where we have to do it if we want to survive. We aren’t perfect. We fight. Wedohurt each other sometimes. This last heat, heat seven, it will be three teams and only one survives. And for some of us, there’s no avoiding the inevitable. Some of us will fall. But you know what? I am proud of how far we’ve all come. We are doing our best with the hand we’ve been dealt. Nothing about this is easy or clean. But everyone here—each and every one of you, no matter what happens next—I consider you my brothers and sisters. My family. And I just wanted to get that out. I am proud to have survived alongside all of you.”
I turned and looked at the shining, weary eyes of the survivors. My people.
“Before we say goodbye, before some of you go off to try to escape and some of you go off on your final race before you take a deal, we have one last piece of business as a group, as a family. We need to send out a message to the universe. Elle.”
Elle flitted up next to me. “Hi, guys. I’m not much for speeches. But I wanted to say a little bit about my late husband, Barry. His name was Bartholomew Eli McGibbons, and for forty-three years, he was my husband.” She reached up to finger the wedding ring she wore hanging by a chain around her neck. “This was his favorite song. I think it’s appropriate for this moment.”
Louis reached over and hit Play on the boom box.
Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” started to play.
She spoke over the music. “He wasn’t the smartest man I ever met. Or the most handsome. But he was mine, and I was his, and I loved him more than life itself.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have survived five minutes in this place, and every time I think that, it just makes me miss him more.”
She paused. Everyone here knew what this was about. They knew because we’d briefed them all.