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“If what’s true?” Dan asked.

“That the grand champion is back.” Even Arthur looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes.

Dan was about to argue that they were both being ridiculous, though he knew they were not, when he felt a sudden shift in the room, something akin to a chill. It was traveling in a wave, heading straight toward him. He turned to see the crowd parting as people stepped aside to let someone pass.

Vance Priest had not changed substantially since Dan last saw him at the national finals three years ago.

The other man was tall and thin with pasty skin and stringy brown hair. His unattractiveness did nothing to dampen his confidence, however. He wore his expensive magical education the way some people wore designer clothes. Like a uniform that ensured entry at all the best clubs. Vance had always made it to the finals, but he hadn’t ever taken the grand championship until the year after Dan’s departure from the circuit. Dan had heard about it, of course, and thought nothing of it. He had nothing else to prove. The way he saw it, he’d been gone for a full year and circuits needed their champions. That was how things worked.

Vance crossed the room toward Dan now with a smile that would have looked equally at home on the face of an asp.

“Dandelion!” he said with false warmth. He raised both hands in a boldly insincere gesture of delighted surprise. “I had no idea you were trying to make a comeback. I can’t believe it!” He looked around in a way that managed to suggest the room, the competition, and Dan’s presence there, was a shock. And then, on a dime, his tone changed. He was now the very picture of solicitous concern. “I heard about the fire. How are you holding up? Terrible business, that blaze.” The pause that followed was a fraction too long. “Good for you, though. Trying to get back on the horse.”

“Mmm hmmm. Can’t blame a man for trying,” Dan said lazily. He raised his beer and angled his body away from Vance, outwardly ignoring him, and all the while wondering whether he might have had something to do with the fire. He wouldn’t put that sort of thing past his old nemesis. Vance had been known to slash tires and play dirty. Dan suspected he’d do anything to hang on to his title.

“This is a decent lager,” Dan commented to Will. “Want to try it?”

“Sure, thanks!” Will raised his brows at Dan. “You know what? You’re right!” He proceeded to drain the entire cup and belch loudly in Vance’s direction. “Next round’s on me!” He shoved past Vance to get to the bar.

Vance flinched with disgust, glaring down his long pointy nose at Dan’s half fae friend’s back. Then he turned back to Dan. “Well, anyway, it’s good to see you still trying to get out there.” Dan thought his smile looked as brittle as his scrawny inbred witch bones. “I just hope you’re not too rusty. It would be a shame if the night wasn’t competitive after all the hype.”

“Thanks, man. Good luck to you too.” Dan’s nod was curt and dismissive.

Arthur watched Dan watching him go.

“Old friend?” he asked after a moment.

“Circuit rival,” Dan said.

“Mmmm.” Arthur picked up his pint. “Well, I sure hope you beat the pants off him. Personality of a bloated toad.”

This, Dan thought, win or lose, was precisely what he needed. Being at The Weighted Anchor with friends was so much better than spending the night alone.

History, science, geography, literature, sport. Dan was already so familiar with the standards that half the answers arrived before the questions were fully asked.

Competing alone was still easier for him than playing on a team. He didn’t have the patience to argue with others when he knew he was right. He used his old team name, Read the Room.

Vance, aka On Your Knees, was the only other competitor playing solo.

The first three rounds went exactly how Dan had expected them to go. The questions were good, a professional company like Lucky Duck Trivia ran a good set. Tom Horner always set a fast pace, saving the drama for later when most of the contestants were already eliminated. A colorful character in equally colorful clothes, Tom had a unique ability to read the room. He kept the whole crowd engaged and laughing. When all else failed, he pulled out his party trick of inflating a rubber glove on his head and crowing like a rooster.

By the second round, Dan couldn’t help but notice the way that Vance Priest was performing. Not delivering so much as acting out his answers with overblown theatrical timing. He savored a beat of fraught consideration before each response. It was just long enough to suggest he was making an effort, without suggesting he was uncertain. Dan had seen this sort of thing before on the circuit and it always triggered alarm bells. He didn’t trust anyone who was that invested in the management of other people’s perception of their prowess. He wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“He certainly knows how to work a room,” Arthur commented. “I’m surprised he’s not a solicitor.”

“What’s with his pet rock?” Will asked. “Some kind of lucky charm?”

Dan couldn’t believe that he’d missed it.

Sitting on the table in front of Vance Priest, and no larger than a thumbnail, was a round, flat pebble. It was so dark and unremarkable, as to be almost unnoticeable. But now he couldn’t unsee the way Vance touched and rubbed it between answers. To anyone else, and especially the Ordinaries in the pub, it would have looked like a quirky habit or a good luck charm. The sort of thing you’d expect from someone with a nervous tic. But Dan was willing to bet that rubbing the stone was not a nervous tic. Not by a long shot.

This was the kind of object that had been specially prepared to facilitate cheating, a muddlestone, perhaps. Dan knew such things existed. They worked by stealing the answers from unsuspecting competitor’s minds before they had a chance to even register them. The stone was doing something devious and deliberate, Dan was sure of it, though he had no proof or any idea how the charm worked.

It wouldn’t matter in the end though. Cheating was a crutch for broken people. And crutches could only carry you so far. Like most successful competitors, Dan knew how to close off his mind to petty conmen like Vance Priest, and he supposed the man was preying on the less seasoned contestants in the bar. Just enough to secure his edge and befuddle the newcomers.

He wasn’t surprised when the fae teenager clocked out in the third round, a speed round that was too fast for their calculations to stick. The poor kid looked so dejected when Vance stole every answer. The reptilian brothers blinked out on the fourth.

But Dan never wavered. He kept answering questions and ascending in the ranks as easily as he would have dashed up a short set of stairs. He put Vance’s rock out of his mind, focusing instead on the sorry state of The Wildernest’s back wall, the Samhain deadline and the sharp smell of char that was still clinging to his jacket. He found the answers with ease, responding almost automatically.