I shivered. Besides, didn’t sharks live in water like this? Why weren’t those swimmers afraid?
They’re crazy people, I reminded myself. They aren’t afraid of Epics either. Well, I wasn’t about to get eaten by a shark, but I did need to learn to swim. I’d have to do something about the sharks. Spikes on my feet, maybe?
We eventually stopped at the lower end of a bridge that stretched high into the sky toward a glowing rooftop above. “We’re here,” Exel noted, then started the steep climb.
I followed, curious. Were we going to find the informants hiding inside the jungles of that building, perhaps? As we climbed upward, I picked out an odd sound coming from above. Was that music?
Indeed it was. It enveloped me as we drew closer—the sound of drums and fiddles. Neon forms moved this way and that wearing spraypainted clothing, and beneath the music came the sounds of people talking.
I stopped on the bridge, causing Mizzy to pause just ahead of me.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A party,” she said.
“And our informants are there?”
“Informants? What are you talking about?”
“The people Exel is coming to meet. To purchase information.”
“Purchase … David—Exel, you, and I are going to mingle and chat with people at the party to see what we can find out.”
Oh.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure, of course I am.” I continued forward, pushing past her up the bridge toward the roof.
A party. What was I going to do at a party?
I had a feeling I’d have been much better off in the water with the sharks.
19
I stood at the edge of the expansive rooftop, concentrating on breathing in and out, wrestling with a mild panic as Mizzy and Exel entered the party.
People wearing glowing, painted clothing moved about in a frenetic mix; some danced while others feasted on the variety of fruits that had been heaped upon tables along the perimeter. Music crashed across us all—overwhelming sounds of drums and fiddles.
It felt like a riot. A rhythmic, and well-catered, riot. And most of the people here were my age.
I’d known other teenagers, of course. There had been many at the Factory in Newcago where I’d worked and lived since I was nine. But the Factory hadn’t thrown parties, unless you counted the movie nights where we’d watched old films, and I hadn’t interacted much with the others. My free time had been dedicated to my notes on Epics and my plans to bring down Steelheart. I hadn’t been a nerd, mind you. I’d just been the type of guy who spent a lot of time by himself, focused entirely on a single consuming interest.
“Come on!” Mizzy said, appearing from the party like a seed spat from the mouth of a glowing jack-o’-lantern. She grabbed my hand and towed me into the chaos.
The tempest of light and sound enveloped me. Weren’t parties about talking to people? I could barely hear myself in the middle of this thing, with all of the noise and the music. I followed Mizzy as she brought me to one of the food tables, which was surrounded by a small group of Babilarans in painted clothing.
I found my hand in my jacket pocket, gripping Megan’s handgun. Being in this press of bodies was even worse than being exposed. With so many people around, I couldn’t keep an eye on them all to watch for guns or knives.
Mizzy positioned me in front of the table, butting into a conversation among a group of older teenagers. “This,” she declared, raising her hands to the side to present me like a new washer and dryer, “is my friend David Charleston. He’s from out of town.”
“Really!” said one of the people at the table, a tall guy with blue hair. “I’d never have been able to tell that from his boring clothing and goofy face.”
I hated him immediately.
Mizzy punched the guy in the shoulder, grinning. “This is Calaka,” she said to me, then pointed at the other three at the table—girl, boy, girl—in turn. “Infinity, Marco, and Lulu.” She practically had to shout to make herself heard over the noise.
“So where are you from, new guy?” Calaka asked, taking a drink of glowing fruit juice. That did not look safe. “Someplace small, I’d guess, considering your wide eyes and overwhelmed expression.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Small.”
“Your clothes are dull,” said one of the girls, Infinity. Blonde and perky, she grabbed a can of something from under the table and shook it. Spraypaint. “Here, we can fix that.”
I jumped back and threw my left hand out while firming my other hand’s grip on the gun in my pocket. Everyone else in this crazy city could go around glowing as much as they wanted, but I wasn’t about to make myself an easier target in the night.
The four flinched away from me, eyes widening. Mizzy took me by the arm. “It’s okay, David. They’re friends. Relax.”
There was that word again. Relax.
“I just don’t want any spraypaint on me,” I said, trying to settle myself.
“Your friend is weird, Mizzy,” Marco noted. He was a short guy with light brown hair so curly it looked like he’d stapled moss to his head. He leaned on the table in an easygoing posture, turning his cup with two fingers.
“I like him,” Lulu said, eyeing me. “Quiet type. Tall, deep, sultry.”
Deep?
Wait … sultry?
I focused on her. Curvaceous, dark skin, lustrous black hair that caught the light. Going to parties was partially about meeting girls, right? If I made a good impression, I might be able to ask her for information about Dawnslight or Regalia.
“Sooooo,” Mizzy said, slumping against the table and stealing Marco’s drink. “Anyone seen Steve around?”
“I don’t think he’s here,” Calaka said. “At least, I haven’t heard the sounds of anyone being slapped nearby.”
“I think he was there,” Infinity said, her tone becoming mellow. “The other day. Uptown.”
“Bad business, that,” Marco said.
The others nodded.
“Well,” Calaka said. “Suppose we’d better raise a cup for old Steve, then. Creep though he was, if the Epics finally got ’im, he deserves a proper sendoff.”
Marco reached to take his drink back, but Mizzy ducked to the side, clinking it against Calaka’s and then drinking. Infinity and Lulu raised their cups as well.