"Every time Suzanne went up to bat, there was a sense of malice in the air. Perhaps her track record was too good. Maybe she just had an air about her. Who could say? When asked about her preternatural baseball abilities, she always said she went to bat with the blessings of the gods. Which she'd never strictly say. Zeus? Coyote? Sutur? It was something older, and much more menacing by a long margin. If he was smart, her pitcher would move. Save his life, someone else's life. Maybe not pitch at all, but no one knew what to expect when she went to bat. Least of all that the whispering of old gods were telling her exactly where she needed to swing between requests for blood offerings."