“Judy is not allowed outside of the house now, and I would take her safety very seriously. Jordan loves her, and I am already fond of Judy.”

  The woman beamed. “You sound like you’d be a wonderful cat-dad. While Judy might not need a feline companion, you still might want to consider adopting one so that you and your fiancée each have your own cat. We have so many that are looking for a good home.”

  I looked at the stacked cages that held what seemed like dozens of cats. It was overwhelming. And while I would enjoy a cat of my own, I didn’t want to alienate Judy or do anything that might annoy the cat.

  “I sometimes travel for work,” I told the woman. “Our hockey games are not always in Baltimore, and I wouldn’t want a cat to suffer while I’m gone.”

  “Cats are the perfect animal for people who might be gone for a few days at a time,” she countered. “You can set up an automatic feeder and watering fountain, and since they go in a litter box, you don’t need to worry about coming home to a mess. And if you’re going to be gone more than a day or two, you can pay a pet sitter to drop by each day to check on the cat and make sure everything is okay.”

  I did like the idea of having a furry little killer waiting for me at home. And while I was certain Jordan and I would return to my homeland, there were logistics that might delay our marriage and move. Even if I proposed this weekend, we had several months of games that I felt I’d made a binding commitment to. Honestly, I felt uncomfortable about leaving mid-season, even though the reason for my journey here was complete. The team needed me. Could I really abandon them?

  Either way, I was not going to make a decision on a cat today.

  “Is there one that you recommend?” I asked the woman. “I would want to talk to my mate before adopting one, but I would like to tell her about a specific cat in that conversation.”

  The woman nodded and led me down the row to a cage toward the end. Inside was an ebony cat with startling orange eyes.

  “This is Coal, although you could always change his name. He’s a relaxed and easygoing cat who would quickly adapt to a new home and would be good with other cats. He’s not going to be pushy with Judy if she doesn’t like him, but he’ll be happy to play if she wants. His favorite things are sitting on your lap, perching on top of kitchen cabinets, and his little mouse toys filled with catnip.”

  She opened the cage and scooped Coal out, depositing him in my arms. The cat’s ebony fur was short, shiny, and soft. He purred instantly, staring up at me with his orange eyes before rubbing his head on my chin. I instantly loved him, and with great reluctance, put him back in the cage.

  “I’ll need to discuss this with Jordan first,” I told the woman.

  “Of course,” she said, closing the cage and putting steel wire between me and the cat I already felt had sunk his claws into my heart. “We always want to make sure every member of the family is on board with a new adoption.”

  Chapter 26

  Ozar

  That evening, I texted Jordan a picture of the cat from the shelter to get her opinion. She texted me back a series of hearts along with a picture of a burger on a plate. I was confused and somewhat alarmed about what a black homeless cat would have to do with food until she texted again that she was out to dinner with her two friends.

  There went my tentative plans to ask her to meet me for a late meal.

  Should I adopt this cat? I texted back, not wanting to interrupt her friend-time but feeling like I should make a decision on Coal.

  Yes. Always adopt the cat, was the reply followed by another heart.

  Would Judy approve? Does Judy like other cats?

  There were several seconds of those pulsing dots alternating with their disappearance before I got a reply.

  Judy would take some time to get used to another cat, but she’s not unfriendly. I don’t want that to keep you from adopting your own cat, though.

  I frowned, not sure how to read what was behind that message. It was good news that Judy would eventually warm up to a cat-friend, but the last bit of the text confused me. Of course Judy’s preferences mattered, as did Jordan’s. If they did not want a second cat, then I would not adopt Coal.

  I know you’ve got some away games coming up. It might not be the best time to bring a cat into your apartment, only to leave when they’re adapting to a new home.

  Oh.

  She was right. As much as I wanted to adopt Coal, it wasn’t fair for the cat to be abandoned right after he was brought into a new home. And having a stranger checking on him every day probably wouldn’t help him settle in like my being there would.

  Thank you for your advice. I will wait until I come home from the away games. Hopefully Coal will still be available at the homeless animal building because I like him.

  His name is Coal??? Is he at BARCS? Maybe I’ll go over to see him when you’re away.

  My heart twisted. If he finds a good home, then I will love and adopt another cat. The shelter-woman informed me there are many nice ones there waiting for families.

  That’s a good attitude to have. There are so many wonderful cats that need homes. I love that you’re thinking of adopting.

  The number of hearts following that text made me wonder how much Jordan had drunk while having dinner with her friends. With a smile, I told her to have a good evening, and that I would see her tomorrow morning.

  My own dinner consisted of leftover Swakega stew and a cold glass of milk. I sat on my balcony for a while, looking out over the city, then changed clothes and walked back to the arena in search of companionship.

  Sadly, the only one who was there was Eng. I really didn’t like the arrogant jerk, and doubted he’d be good company, but figured he was better than no one.

  I really did need a cat.

  Eng held up a magazine with pictures of naked humans engaging in intercourse. “There are stories in nearly every issue of this magazine in which a male delivering pizza sinks his hand-axe into females on a regular basis.”

  “I am already having copious amounts of sex,” I informed him smugly. “There is no need for me to deliver a pizza for that to happen.”

  Still, I filed the information away in the back of my mind, in case Jordan ever expressed the need for a pizza.

  “I am considering quitting this hockey team and working at a place called Domino’s where I can deliver pizza to women needing the services of my hand-axe.” Eng frowned. “Except none of the human males in this magazine are wedding these females. Are the females just casually enjoying a roll in the male’s furs? Are the males evaluating the females as potential brides by testing out their sexual prowess? Perhaps that’s a method I should consider.”

  I snorted. “That would require you to actually convince a human woman to invite you to her furs. So far, you can’t even get one to accept a beverage. Or a steak from the grocery store.”

  “That waitress must have already been married, because it was a very good steak,” Eng complained. “Clearly I need to offer a pizza to the next female I consider making my bride.”

  “Excellent idea. What sort of activity should I plan for my next date with Jordan? Should we workout together Saturday morning and then have breakfast? Should we run? Practice knife fighting? Skate on the ice?” I tried to steer us back to the topic of me and my future bride.

  “Yeah. All of that.” Eng leafed through the magazine, clearly not listening to my suggestions or caring one bit about my dilemma.

  I picked up one of his discarded magazines, the one that showed a mostly naked woman with strategically placed coffee filters improbably attached to her nipples and shaved garden. I wanted to respect Jordan’s need for friend time, but Eng’s suggestion intrigued me. Waiting outside her home for her to return with a pizza in my hands seemed like it might suggest desperation rather than devotion, and besides, the pizza would be cold by the time she arrived home.

  Plus, I’d learned that Jordan was a woman who liked her routine, just as her cat did. She’d made an exception for me today, and I knew how significant that was. I’d just texted with her. She’d be at the game tomorrow. Making plans for Saturday felt right, even though I wanted to see her before then.

  The game. I’d promise to get Jordan and her friends passes.

  “How do we get free tickets for friends and family members?” I asked Eng.

  “Hmm,” he replied before turning the magazine around to show me a picture that took up two pages. “Look at how flexible this female is. I don’t know any orc that could possibly be able to perform this act. Are all human females this bendy?”

  “If you’re lucky, yes. I want special tickets for tomorrow to give to Jordan and her friends. Who do I get those from?”

  Eng reversed the magazine to stare in awe at the picture. “I’ve got no idea. That guy in the booth up front, maybe? Or the human male guarding the entrance?”

  I tossed the magazine I’d been holding aside and headed up front. There was a woman at the booth this evening and a surprising number of humans were lined up around the lobby.

  A voice from the line shouted, “Hey, Ozar!” and the entire crowd turned to look at me. Half a second later, I was mobbed by humans wanting me to sign various pieces of paper and to ask me about our strategy for the upcoming game.

  Strategy? Stay on our knife-blades and if we were lucky, get the puck into the enemy’s net? I didn’t want to relay our lack of planning, so I just grunted and scrawled my signature on the various papers and body parts they shoved my way.

  It was the male security guard who finally came to my rescue, moving the humans away from me with the claim that I was needed on the ice. He cleared a path, and when we were securely behind the locked doors of the arena, I asked him about the tickets.

  He grinned and slapped my shoulder. “Your girlfriend from last night? Absolutely, dude. She’s smokin’ hot, and I can tell she’s not the usual puck bunny, either.”

  “She’s a dentist.” I had no idea what a puck bunny was and assumed that smokin’ hot was a compliment I might not appreciate coming from this male, but he’d helped me escape a mob of humans, so I decided I should overlook the comment.

  “Damn, dude!” He slapped my shoulder again. “Congrats! How many tickets do you need? I’ll have them at the will-call box.”

  “Three tickets with the best seats,” I told him.

  “They’ll be in the VIP box right behind the team,” he assured me. “I hope she inspires you to a great game. I want to see lots of fights. And maybe we’ll score a goal.”

  It was humiliating that he didn’t think a win was possible, or even that more than a goal was a “maybe” for us. But fights? That I could try to deliver.

  I thanked the male guard and headed back to the locker room. Even if I had to drag Eng out by his hair, I was getting him on the ice. Whether I could make him actually skate or do more than lean against a wall all night was uncertain, but at least I’d get him on the ice.

  Ugwyll showed up, and between the two of us we managed to not only get Eng on the ice, but half a dozen of the others on the team as well. Eng refused to participate, but with Ugwyll and I bullying the other orcs, we spent two hours working on our skating and our passing skills with the puck. We were horrible, but I was sure we’d be less horrible than we were last week.

  The Tusks probably wouldn’t score a goal, but maybe we’d stay on our feet and manage to keep possession of the puck for more than a few seconds at a time. And fights? That might be the only thing we could deliver.

  Fights, and several mortifying moments that the audience would laugh at.

  Chapter 27

  Ozar

  The next morning, I was up early, going building to building to ensure that every orc on our team came to practice. We ran laps around the arena, then went back to the ice to work some more on our skating and puck handling. Or “turd handling,” as the team called it. It was well after noon by the time I ended practice and assembled everyone in the locker room.

  “Tonight, we are going to show these humans what a team of orcs can do,” I told them.

  “We’re going to get the akot beat out of us, that’s what,” one muttered.

  I glared at the orc until he lowered his eyes. “We might not be as skilled at this game as the humans, but there is something we are skilled at. We can fight. We can knock them down. We can slam them into the walls. We can find their weaknesses and exploit them.”

  Ugwyll nodded. “Scare the akot out of them, and they’ll be timid. They’ll make mistakes. And with those mistakes, we’ll have a chance to score goals.”

  “We will defeat our enemy tonight,” Bwat shouted and raised his arm. The other team members did the same with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

  “And as a reward, every teammate who gives it his all, who fights and defends, and attempts to score even if the turd misses the net…those orcs will receive a cannoli.”

  I’d faced bull-wraiths in the mists of the Wrenga Mountains. I’d battled fae in the Valley of Shadows. I’d led the forces that defeated mwilla-mka who’d come from the depths of the ground when the quakes split the earth. But none of those had me on edge like Friday night’s hockey game.

  With boxes holding three dozen cannoli in my arms, I entered the arena and made my way to the dusty coach’s office where I hid the baked treasures in the corner fridge. In the distance, I could hear the hum of the Zamboni machine on the ice. None of the team had arrived, but the whole arena had a sense of anticipation about it. Anxious excitement. A battle about to begin.

  Finding a remote corner in the depths of the arena’s mechanical areas, I cleared my mind and focused on the game. It wasn’t easy. I’d texted Jordan about the tickets and her reply had conveyed excitement, but I still worried. What if she didn’t come? If her friends had other plans, would she choose them over a night of watching us probably lose against the humans? Or worse, if she watched us lose for the second week in a row, would she reconsider her feelings for me? I knew her heart was mine, but would her pragmatic side insist on a more capable mate? Would her heart be fickle after watching yet another disaster of a game?

  She’s not the usual puck bunny.

  I’d looked that term up on my phone and winced at the description. Jordan was not a woman who sought a famous mate, or a mate who was famous for losing. She would support my goals but not turn from me if achievement took time. Or never happened. Besides, this hockey thing was temporary. Soon we’d be wed and home, and I could impress her with how respected I was a guardian of my clan.

  Forcing those thoughts from my mind, I focused on the game as I would an upcoming battle. All other concerns needed to be locked away. Only winning mattered.

  Winning. As if that were even a remote possibility.

  I slammed the door shut on that. The inner battle was most likely worse than the one I’d face in a few hours, but I did my best, and when I emerged from the mechanical room, I felt at peace.

  That sense of peace lasted through the chaos of the locker room, through the booming of the announcer’s voice, through the initial skate onto the ice, through the anthem where we stood respectfully with our arms by our sides. It lasted until we skated to the benches, and I saw Jordan in the stands.

  She and her two friends cheered and shouted, waving their arms at us. The look on her face…it was enough to stoke those hot coals deep inside myself to a bonfire. I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to see that look of joy and love on her face every day of my life.

  “I’ve got a plan,” Bwat said, handing us each a sheet of paper. “Ozar asked me to find an advantage, and I’ve got one. We need to say these things to our enemies every chance we get. It isn’t enough to yell ‘fuck’ at them; we need to insult them in this particular way.”

  “They make fun of each others’ mothers?” Ugwyll asked as he read the paper. “That can’t be right.”

  “It’s crossing a line,” I agreed, wincing at some of the insults.

  “This is what my research revealed,” Bwat insisted.

  “I’m sure this is wrong,” Ugwyll told him.

  “I don’t feel comfortable with these either,” I said. “Let’s stick to insulting their manhood, their strength and skill, and their appearance.”

  My resolve vanished the moment I took the ice to face off against a human male for the puck. He looked me in the eye, head tilting upward as I was taller by a foot, and told me that he’d enjoyed my mother sucking his hand-axe last night.

  Bwat was right. These humans did stoop so low as to degrade another’s mother. For a split second, I was too shocked to react, then I said the first thing that came to my head.

  “She has been dead for ages. You enjoy face-fucking corpses?”

  The male’s pale face turned the color of the ice. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled.

  “My mother is a dog-corpse and that is what you enjoy having suck your cock?” I wondered, not sure how any of this was insulting to either me or my long-dead mother.

  “Fucker,” he roared, tossing off his gloves and diving at me.

  It was a mistake. I had seventy pounds of muscle on this human. I tossed my own gloves aside and pounded my fist into his shoulder, sending him flying backward across the ice. The arena erupted with shouts of approval and chants of “fight, fight.” Other human players engaged the orc nearest to them and soon realized that we might not have padding or even shirts, but we were stronger than any hockey player they’d ever engaged in the past. By the time the demons in uniforms disengaged us, the ice was striped with red and green blood—mostly red—and several human males, including the one who had faced off against me, left the ice with a weaving, unsteady gait.

  Since we’d yet to begin our first match, I found myself again facing off across from a different human male. This time, I took the initiative as far as insults went.