Wildcard (Warcross #2)(32)

“Checkmate!” she calls out.

They’re playing speed chess. She’s sitting across from Roshan, who knocks his king flat with a defeated grimace. As the crowd shouts out new challenges and exchanges bets, Roshan gets out of his seat so that someone else can play Hammie, then heads over to wrap an arm around the waist of Kento Park.

They exchange some intimate words I can’t hear. I look around, wondering whether Tremaine’s here to see them.

“Move over, move over.” Asher’s voice comes from the crowd, and some people part to let him through. He shoves the chair Roshan was sitting in out of his way and wheels himself into its place, then smirks at Hammie and leans against the table. “You can’t win two rounds against me in the same night,” he says. The crowd roars with approval at the challenge.

“Oh? Can’t I?” Hammie cocks her head at him and hops down from her chair. Her eyes are still bright from her win.

As I watch, the chess game before them resets. Virtual fire engulfs the edges of the chessboard, and a magnified version of the game appears over their heads for everyone to see. It’s no static chessboard, either—the knights are real knights, the rooks real castle towers, the bishops replaced with fire-breathing dragons that now lunge their necks forward.

A new timer appears to float over the table. I glance at it. Each player gets one second to make a move.

The game starts. Everyone cheers.

Hammie’s playful banter silences, replaced by a look I know well from our training days. Smug, wicked confidence. I shake my head, lost for a moment in awe as I watch her move. Pawn. Knight. Queen. Each play sends a column of fire racing around the hovering chessboard. Hammie’s eyes dart from position to position—her hand flies out without the slightest hesitation each time her turn comes up. Over her head, the virtual, animated chessboard is aflame, each position waging an epic war. Hammie’s knight clashes with one of Asher’s bishops, skewering the character with her lance; the opponent’s queen walks right into a trap she set up with several pawns and her rook.

The crowd around Hammie screams at each move. Asher’s brow furrows deeper as he fights a losing battle, but Hammie ignores him blissfully, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs, even dancing in place in between moves.

I smile along. I’ve never seen Hammie play in person. She’s even better than I thought; it’s like watching a game already preset and planned out, and she’s merely executing the moves. If I could only be as sure of my next steps as she is.

“Checkmate, son!”

The crowd around her bursts into a mass of cheers as Hammie corners Asher’s king. She slaps her hands down hard on the table, hops onto her chair in one nimble move, and lifts an arm up high in a V-for-victory sign. Her level bumps up by one, and her notes tick frantically upward. Asher throws his head back with a loud groan as Hammie does a little dance on the chair.

When the crowd settles and some move on to watch another nearby game, I finally walk up to their table. Roshan notices me first. He blinks in surprise—and then steps away from Kento, breaks into a grin, and claps his hands loudly at Asher and Hammie.

“Team reunion?” I manage to shout at them over the music, unable to stop myself from returning Roshan’s smile.

Asher lets out an exclamation at the same time Hammie hops down from her chair and makes a beeline for me. And before I can say anything more, I’m swept off my feet by a hug from both her and Roshan.

For a moment, I forget why I’m here. I forget about the Blackcoats and Hideo and the mess I’ve somehow gotten myself into. Right now, I’m with my friends, indulging in their messy, jostling greeting.

Asher looks bright-eyed, his cheeks flushed, his hair as rumpled as his clothing. He joins us as Hammie and Roshan finally let go of me. “You scared the hell out of us when you went MIA, you know that?” he exclaims.

“Captain,” I reply with a forced wink, trying to keep myself looking lighthearted here.

Hammie’s bright, glittering eyes turn serious. “Tremaine’s been waiting for you,” she says to me. “He says he has something to show us.”

At her words, I glimpse someone standing in the crowds nearby. It’s Tremaine, leaning against a wall with an uncertain look on his face. My momentary happiness wavers at the sight of him.

You’re going to want to hear this in person.

“Come on.” Hammie gestures up at the ceiling. “The next floor is full of private karaoke rooms. You can fill us in up there.”

I nod wordlessly back, and together, we all cut our way through the throngs until we make our way into the elevator.

A private suite is already waiting for us in the karaoke hall. Muffled music thuds around us from parties raging in the other rooms. I notice immediately that someone’s already in here, a barely perceptible figure sitting in the dark corner of the sofas. Then Roshan shuts the door behind us, sealing us in, and the shouts and music outside suddenly turn into a muffled din. My ears ring in the silence.

Tremaine speaks first. “This is the contact I told you about,” he says to me, nodding at the stranger now sitting beside us. “Jesse. Prefers they.”

At that, Jesse leans back against the sofa and studies me without acknowledging the others. I study them back. They have strikingly pale green eyes set against light brown skin, and a lean physique that gives off a false impression of fragility—but I see their slender fingers tapping with precision against the sofa. I recognize gestures like that. They’re the signs of a racer.