Page 42 of The Cauldronball Run
J.J.'s hands loosened on the wheel."What do you mean all of us?”
Engines roared, and in the sunset, J.J.saw the Cauldronball racers eating up the distance between them.“What are you all doing here?"
"Coming to help, obviously."Torch's gravelly voice carried through the static."That bear bastard thinks he can lock up racers just because he's got a badge?Not happening."
"Nobody messes with the Cauldronball Run," Blaze added."Grizz wants a war?He's got one."
The industrial area materialized out of the desert like a collection of metal boxes forgotten by giant children.No streetlights, no security cameras, just warehouses baking in the residual heat of the Arizona day.
J.J.pulled behind an abandoned building, killing his lights.The others followed, engines dying one by one until only the banshee's perfectly silent hearse remained running—though no one could hear it.
Through the partial bond, Farrah pulsed like a beacon.She was close, maybe a hundred yards away, her emotions a mixture of resignation and fading hope.She thought he'd abandoned her.The knowledge sat in his chest like swallowed glass.
"Two guards," Torch reported, returning from reconnaissance."Frost demons, looking miserable."
J.J.almost laughed.Frost demons in Phoenix in August.They had to be questioning every life choice that had led them to this moment.
"They're standing by the main entrance, sweating through their uniforms," Blaze added."One keeps trying to create ice and it keeps melting immediately."
The warehouse itself was exactly what J.J.expected—corrugated metal walls, no windows except for some dirty glass near the roof, single story.A temporary holding facility for Grizz's catches until he could process proper paperwork.
Through those high windows, shadows moved.The prisoners.His enhanced hearing picked up voices—the trolls arguing about something, Bondo complaining dramatically, and there, underneath it all, Farrah telling someone to stay calm.
His mate.Locked up.The rage that rose in his chest was pure orc, ancient and territorial.But Farrah needed him thinking, not just reacting.
"Ideas?"he asked the assembled group.
"We could burn the door down," Torch suggested.
"Set the whole warehouse on fire, more likely," the banshee observed in her otherworldly monotone.
"I could make them see things," one of the pixies offered."Confusion magic.Make them think we're federal agents or something."
"Or," Blaze said with a grin that showed too many teeth, "we use their weakness against them."
J.J.looked at the dragon biker."Which is?"
"They're frost demons.In Phoenix.In August."Blaze's grin widened."What do you think happens when dragons breathe fire at creatures made of ice?"
The plan formed quickly.It wasn't sophisticated, but it didn't need to be.Frost demons half-melted from desert heat weren't going to put up much of a fight against determined dragons.
They moved toward the warehouse, keeping low despite the lack of witnesses.The industrial area was completely deserted, not even homeless camps in this heat.Just them and their targets.
As they approached, J.J.could hear the demons complaining.
"—absolute bullshit," one was saying."Hazard pay doesn't cover this.I'm literally evaporating."
"Stop whining," the other replied, though his voice was equally miserable."Job's a job."
"Job's a death sentence.I've lost ten pounds in water weight since noon."
J.J.positioned himself by the side door while the dragons flanked the main entrance.The pixies hung back, ready to add confusion to chaos.The banshee just stood there, which was somehow worse than if she'd been actively threatening.
He tested the door handle.Locked, but the lock was hardware store quality, not designed to stop someone with orcish strength.One solid pull and—
The door came free with a shriek of metal that echoed through the warehouse.
"What the hell—" the first demon started.
