Page 13 of Wooing the Wiccan (Elf Magic #1)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jared

I wait in front of the stadium, looking around for Raeulfr.

He was going to pick me up from home, but called nearly two hours ago to say he’d been pulled into a late meeting and could I meet him here instead.

I assured him it wasn’t a problem, and he swore up and down that he’d be here on time, even if it meant mayhem.

It’s such a little thing, but it made me smile.

He’s not late yet, so I lean against the pillar outside door three, using a clever spell Raeulfr taught me to keep myself warm, and watch the excited sports fans around me while I wait.

There’s not as many as I would have expected for a home game this late in the season, especially considering how well the local team is doing.

There’s also something odd about the crowd.

I don’t think I’ve seen anyone wearing local jerseys…

or any I recognize. There are plenty of jersey-wearers, but they’re all for teams I’ve never heard of.

On a hunch, I pull out my phone and double-check the season fixture. There’s definitely not an NHL game here tonight. I bring up the website for the stadium and look for the schedule. Maybe it’s an AHL or even ECHL game… though this is a big stadium for them.

Scrolling, scrolling… there it is! Community Hockey League, Warhammers v. Glaives, 7:00 pm.

I blink at my screen a few times. A local community league is playing in a stadium this size? Looking around again, I reassess my earlier thought that the crowd is on the small side. Sure, it won’t fill the stadium, but for a couple of hobby teams, it’s impressive.

Slipping my phone away, I shamelessly eavesdrop on a group of college kids who’ve stopped a few feet away.

“…Warhammers have been totally shit lately. It almost makes me want to switch teams,” one of the bigger guys says.

A smaller, slimmer young man smirks. “You should. The Hammers have built their rep around dominating with size and strength, but everyone knows the best player on the team is Ansas, and he’s half the size of his teammates.”

“Yeah,” someone else adds. I can’t see them around the two big guys, who are both well over six feet tall and built like linebackers. “You should switch to the Glaives. Every one of their players is a precision weapon, just like the team name.”

My brows shoot up. It sounds like this is going to be a heck of a game.

The guys move inside, still arguing about whether a team needs to earn fan loyalty or not, and I go back to studying the crowd.

Now that I know what I’m looking for, I easily pick out the Warhammers fans in navy blue and the Glaives fans in lilac.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hockey team opt for such a delicate color.

Normally sports teams pick bold shades, but this definitely isn’t. I kind of like that.

There’s a minor disturbance over toward the road, but when I look, all I see is more people in navy and lilac arriving.

There are random others in different jerseys, and I make a mental note to look up this league later and check out the teams. I like the idea of supporting community sports. Maybe?—

My gaze catches on Raeulfr, making his way toward me, and I grin and wave. He waves back, and… people turn to look? That’s weird. I let my hand drop, not wanting to attract attention. It’s probably a coincidence that the people near him turned right then.

I keep my eyes on him as he gets closer, and notice that quite a few people in the crowd say hello and nod to him.

I guess he comes to these games a lot, which is even more reason for me to find out more about the league.

I wish he’d mentioned sooner that he likes hockey—though I guess I never brought it up either.

It’s not like I’m a rabid fan, and when I’m with him, I don’t bother to turn on a game, not wanting him to think my attention is divided.

I love that we’re moving past that now—that we’re both confident enough in each other’s feelings that we don’t need to be dancing attention on each other.

I think we’re officially at the boyfriend stage.

Or whatever the age-appropriate word is for men in their forties.

Actually, is Raeulfr in his forties like me?

I assumed, but it’s hard to tell based on his face.

He could be anywhere from late thirties to late fifties.

Not that it matters, but I should probably find out if he’s got any important birthdays coming up.

One woman nods so deeply to him that it looks almost like she’s bowing, and I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. I bet he’s made some hefty donations to the league. Fans of smaller leagues love the people who help their teams stay solvent.

He reaches me and leans down for a kiss, which I happily return. We keep it low-key, because we’ve both talked about the fact that our jobs don’t allow for highly visible ostentatious PDA. Our make-out session at the back of a cinema felt thrillingly naughty.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Just a few minutes. I’ve been enjoying the crowd.”

He smiles at me in a way that makes my stomach somersault. I know that feeling will fade the longer we’re together, but I hope it never completely disappears. “And staying warm, I see. That’s some very neat work. I’m impressed.”

Laughing, I hook my arm through his and pull him toward the door. “I learned from an expert. Do you have the tickets? I want to hit concessions and get some nachos before the puck drops.”

“Mmm, nachos,” he agrees, pulling out his phone and holding it out to be scanned. A few seconds later we’re in, and a vendor stall catches my eye.

“This way,” I say. “I want to get a Glaives jersey.” I’ve already decided they’re going to be my team.

Raeulfr raises a brow curiously but tags along. “Why the Glaives? The Warhammers are the home team.” He sounds oddly proud as he announces that.

I take a second to wonder why he thinks it would matter that the Warhammers are the designated home team when both teams are local, but shrug it off. “I heard someone saying the Glaives’ players are all precision weapons like the team name, and I like that idea. Plus, the color is pretty.”

His laugh surrounds us as we join the line, and a few people glance over. One man does a double take, and I figure he recognizes Raeulfr. He must be seriously involved with this league.

Or maybe they recognize him from his job? Government employees are sometimes public figures. But if he was in the public eye enough for this many people to recognize him, shouldn’t I?

The people in front of us move off, and I push the thought aside to ask Raeulfr about later, and get down to the serious business of buying merch.

By the time we have our nachos and are in our fantastic seats, my sweater replaced by my new jersey, the pregame entertainment is starting.

I’m surprised, to be honest—I didn’t expect a small local league to have pregame entertainment, and definitely not this good .

It’s cheesy, two fantasy characters—what looks like a devil and a wolfman—fighting each other with warhammers, but the music is suitably dramatic, and the smoke and lighting add to the whole ambiance.

The hammers clang together, and kudos to the sound guy, because the sound of it vibrates through the air.

A sharp breath beside me draws my attention to Raeulfr. He’s staring at the ice, pale.

“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. It can’t be dinner disagreeing with him, because he’s barely touched his nachos.

He turns a wide-eyed, slightly panicked gaze on me, and then seems to shake it off. “Yes. I’m fine. Sorry, I… uh, I remembered something for work. Do you… Would it be okay if we didn’t stay?”

Shocked, I gape at him. “You want to leave ?” I glance back at the ice in confusion, wondering what about the fake fight reminded him of work. “Do you have to cancel our date and go back to the office?”

His throat works as he swallows, and he musters a smile. “No. No, of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking. It can wait until tomorrow.”

All his earlier relaxation and happiness seem to be gone, but I guess if he’d worried about work… “We can go if you need to,” I begin, but he shakes his head firmly.

“No. It’s fine. I don’t want to miss out on this time with you. Let’s enjoy our date.”

Not entirely convinced, I turn back to the entertainment just as the hammers strike each other again, and I swear, this time there are sparks as well as the noise.

I lean toward Raeulfr. “The effects for this are incredible,” I say, then drop my voice to a murmur as I add, “If I couldn’t see for myself that it wasn’t, I’d swear those sparks were magic, they’re so realistic. ”

“But you can see they’re not! Because they’re not. You’re experienced enough to know that you can see it, and if you can’t, it’s not magic.”

I shoot him a look, not liking the forced smile on his face, but before I can ask again if he’s okay, the music peaks and the fight ends, the wolfman vanquished by the devil. Raeulfr rises to his feet with the rest of the crowd, applauding, and I follow suit. It was a great performance.

The lights come back up to full as we sit again, and Raeulfr mutters something that I don’t catch. It sounds like he said something about sorcery, but I must have misheard.

“So,” I begin, trying to get some positive vibes back, “I guess you’re going for the Warhammers?”

Raeulfr seems to pull himself together, and his smile this time is the teasing one I’m used to. “Yep! Felix Ansas is my favorite player. We’re going to smash your precision Glaives.”

I scoff. “You wish. We’ll slip in and strike before you can even lift your overhyped weapon.” I have no idea if that’s actually true. Or even if what I said makes sense.

From the sideways look Raeulfr is giving me, he doesn’t think so. “Overhyped weapon? You didn’t think it was overhyped the other night when you were begging for it.”

My jaw drops, and I sputter a laugh. “Did you just make a dick joke? You’re comparing your dick to a warhammer ?”

He winces. “Yeah, in hindsight, not my best choice. I like to think I have more finesse than that.”

“Oh, you do,” I assure him, though I’m still laughing. “But you’re sadly mistaken if you think I’m not going to start referring to your cock as your warhammer.”

His laugh joins mine, and as the players start to skate out and the announcer begins his spiel, I lean my shoulder against his, ready for a fun night.

I’ll never remember the players’ names anyway, so I let my attention drift across the crowd.

The devil from the pregame show must be the mascot, because there are a lot of people in the crowd wearing horns, and they’re kind of cool.

“Did you see where they were selling the horns?” I ask Raeulfr. “I know I said I was going for the Glaives, but I think I want to buy a pair anyway. They look great, and they’d be perfect for Halloween.”

“No. Um… I think they were limited edition. They don’t have them here tonight.”

Minor disappointment curls in my stomach. “Oh. That’s a pity. I guess I’ll have to be happy with my jersey.”

The game starts just a few minutes later, and from the start I’m surprised by the level of play.

It’s not NHL-good, but damn , these players have a lot more skill than I was expecting to see from a community league.

And they’re fast . Way fast, super fast…

“I had my eyes on that guy the whole time and didn’t see him move” fast.

The kids I was eavesdropping on were right about the Warhammers being a bigger team—with the exception of Ansas, who’s a lot smaller than I thought he would be, they’re all well over six feet, and even pads wouldn’t make a man look that big if he wasn’t.

The Glaives have some super-big players too, but the team is more of a mix of?—

Crash!

The boards vibrate so hard, I’m sure the plexiglass is going to give up as one of the Warhammers shoulder-checks a Glaive with an elbow into the back of him, the hit high enough to be illegal.

I wait for the ref to call the penalty, but play continues like nothing happened, the only protests coming from the Glaives supporters in the crowd.

I think this league might play rougher than I’m used to.