She stopped and blinked.
“Sorry,” said Saif. “I’m usually cooler than this. Maybe I should go back to the baby blue dog boy outfit.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Marisa, trying not to smile. It was endearing, she realized, to see some cracks in his perfectly groomed facade. “But: here we go. You’ve got your flight controls down? You know what you’re doing?”
He moved back and forth in the air. “I think I’ve got the hang of it.”
“Then we’re doing an obstacle course: straight out, touch the manticore, do a loop under him through that old window arch, touch him again, and then back here.”
“I’m going to guess that touching the monster is the hard part of this race.”
“Touching a monster is easy,” said Marisa. “The hard part’s getting away from it alive.”
“Well, yeah—”
“But you’ve got to do it with attitude,” she said. “You don’t just fly right at it, you look the monster in the eye and say, ‘Tenemos un pollito que comernos.’”
“Tenemuh . . . what?”
Marisa laughed. “Try it in English: ‘We have a little chicken to eat together.’”
“That is . . . the worst threat I’ve ever heard.”
“What, like you’ve got a better one? The English phrase is ‘I have a bone to pick with you.’ How is that more menacing?”
“Maybe it’s the other guy’s bone, and you’re going to pick it, like, out of his body or something.”
“That’s not what it says.”
“At least it doesn’t say you’re going to serve him dinner.” He looked at the manticore. “Hey buddy, watch out, in a minute I’m going to come over there and give you some chicken; I thought we could eat it together, maybe catch up on some stuff.”
“Fine, then,” said Marisa, trying to control her laughter. “Excuse me for trying to inject some style into this competition. If all you want to do is race, we’ll race. Three.” She leaned forward, preparing herself to launch.
“Wait,” said Saif, “we’re going now?”
“Two,” said Marisa, not waiting for him. Saif copied her pose. “One.” They both launched toward the manticore at full speed, and Marisa laughed at the thrill of it. Halfway there she swerved sideways, bumping Saif with her hip, but he corrected his course almost immediately, and bumped her back with a grin.
They reached the manticore at the same time, but with two different strategies. Marisa aimed for the center of its mass, knowing that it would be the easiest to hit at high speed; Saif went high, trying to slap the monster’s head as he flew past, but he’d overestimated his flying skills and missed it by more than a foot. The manticore attacked, lashing out at Marisa with its thick scorpion tail, and she barely managed to dodge out of the way. She pulled herself almost to a stop, and dropped below the roof to circle through the window and back; Saif was coming in for another pass to touch the monster and aimed for its center this time. The manticore was still focused on Marisa and ignored him. She ducked through the ruined arch and popped up again on the other side, slapping the thing on the tail before zooming back toward the starting point, but checked herself halfway to look back at Saif. He was struggling with the small gap in the stone window, giving the manticore just enough time to refocus on him. The scorpion tail shot out and stung him, and a damage meter popped up in Marisa’s vision: he’d been poisoned, and his life started dropping tick by tick. Saif cleared the window and came up the other side, only to be stung again, and when he flew away the manticore followed with a roar. Marisa gauged the distance, staying just outside the point where the monster would lose interest and return to its post; when Saif came in range she targeted him with a healing boost, and he limped to safety with just a few points of health left. The poison effect ended, and the manticore flew away.
“Ouch,” said Saif, but he was laughing as he hovered in the air. “That’s harder than it looks.”
Marisa grinned. “Satisfied?”
“You’re definitely good. I figure it wouldn’t take me much practice to do that and live through it, but to do that, live through it, and heal the doofus who couldn’t figure out how windows work? You have my respect, madam, and my thanks.”
His health was regenerating now, and she watched the numbers tick up. She was having fun—not the satisfaction of a successful race, but real, can’t-stop-smiling fun. She didn’t want it to end, but the poison icon seemed to burn in her memory, and she thought about Anja. She flew a small loop, more of a flip than any real movement, and kept her eyes on the ground, or the sky, or the manticore; anywhere but Saif’s face.
“Saif?”