Chapter 30 Shark Week
SHARK WEEK
The day of The Boys’ concert is suddenly upon us, and we’re eating breakfast together in the dining room. They ended rehearsal early the day prior so they could get enough sleep, which cut into my sword practice.
Because the concert is tonight, there won’t be any rehearsing, so they can “Rest and recover before the big night,” as Reem said yesterday. That means no sword practice today either, so I’m in a foul mood as we eat breakfast.
Reem already pulled me aside this morning.
He told me that the house employees are nearly all taking a holiday to thank them for their work, so I’ll be going to the concert.
He emphasized to me, firmly but not unkindly, that I needed to promise to listen to orders and act thoughtfully.
Despite the fact that I’m sure Dio put him up to it, I agreed.
I’ve continued to feel irritated at being treated like a child, but I certainly never intend to cause a disruption to their work, and today is no different.
The boys are quiet as they eat, the room buzzing with tension. Everyone seems to be trying to focus on their breakfast except Lent, who’s reading a paper as he shovels food into his mouth.
As he reads, he suddenly stops eating, and his expression goes tight. “Look at this,” he says into the tense room. “There are more food shortages. Even bread is getting tougher to come by.”
“Yeah,” Dio says darkly, “that’s been reported for a while now. On the next page, there’s an article about the new air pollution numbers. They’re also grim. This is why our work is so important. After this damned concert, we need to get our focus back.”
Lent’s face goes pale, and Reem looks angry.
Dio seems oblivious as he stares at his plate, cutting his food into neat pieces.
The room is quiet, other than the swishing of paper as Lent folds the newspaper and pushes it into the middle of the table, clearly done reading this morning.
The tense quiet continues until everyone leaves to do whatever needs to be done before the concert.
Ispend the rest of the day in my room, first picking out my outfit for the concert and then reading one of the books on weather magic.
Finally, with hours still to wait, I sketch a bit more on some of the blank pages in the books I keep in my room.
At some point, I must fall asleep because I’m woken to a knock on my door.
“Twenty minutes and we’re in the carriage,” Reem says through the door. He sounds frazzled.
I jump out of bed, cursing that I fell asleep, and quickly get ready.
I freshen up in my small bathroom and dress myself as fast as I can, but I know I’m still taking too long and leave my room still fastening my corset top as I head to the front door.
I shove my feet into my boots and head to the carriage with them still unfastened.
I make it to the carriage and drop breathlessly onto a seat next to Lent as the carriage begins moving.
The trip passes in a blur, the energy in the carriage even more tense than it was at breakfast.
When we arrive at the venue, I follow the boys through the front door and, as is typical, down to the basement. This place is certainly not typical, though, and all the worry and tension from the boys over the past few days begins to make sense.
The space we walk into is already enormous, but on top of the massive open room with only stone pillars dividing it, there are passageways leading out at multiple points to fit additional spectators.
Unlike other venues, this place is also mostly set up. The only thing the staff are doing is setting up the instruments on the wide stage. As I look around, I note that Lent, Reem, and Fem are heading to the stage, and I begin to follow them.
However, I suddenly run into a solid form.
Blinking up at whoever or whatever it is, I slowly realize it’s Dio.
I step back as he grumbles about his suit being rumpled, but I don’t know what he’s talking about.
There isn’t a single wrinkle to be seen.
In his neatly pressed concert outfit, he looks even more like the prick he is, every bit the spoiled rich boy.
His concerns about his outfit apparently resolved, he points behind me. “Your place is back there,” he says. His voice is carefully controlled.
I stand unmoving, glaring at him, and feel my fingers curling into fists.
“The only reason you were allowed to accompany us this time is that you promised, yet again, to listen to orders and behave,” he reminds me, a smug look on his face. “Because it was hard to believe you after the last two occasions, I took it upon myself to ensure we had a foolproof plan this time.”
I continue to glare up at him, my control over my emotions close to snapping.
He glares back at me, his jaw tight.
“Are you going to accompany me of your own accord or do I need to drag you again?” he asks. His voice is still carefully modulated, but there’s something in his tone that tells me he’s pleased with himself.
My control finally snaps, and my instincts take over. As I glare at him, without thinking, I lean close and snarl, “If you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll break it.” Then I turn on my heel and walk towards the back of the room where he pointed.
As soon as I turn, I see what his plan is. There’s an alcove that is free of people, thanks to a satin rope surrounding it. There are two muscular security guards present.
I hesitate as I get to the velvet cord at the entrance, but Dio steps alongside me and says to the guards, “She is not to leave this space for any reason for the duration of the concert. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir,” they both respond confidently, glancing from him to me.
I watch as one blushes as she looks at him, and I’m instantly concerned about her taste in men.
The other pulls the rope aside, and I walk into the alcove and deposit myself on one of the tall chairs that look towards the stage. I’m careful not to look toward Dio, but I might as well have not bothered because with his task complete, he turns and heads to the stage without another word.
I’m immediately bored and wish I had brought some books.
With nothing else to do, I watch as fans start to mill into the space, rather quickly filling the massive open room and beginning to overflow into the tunnels at the back.
The security guards move around me, watching to make sure no one encroaches on the alcove, and occasionally glancing in my direction.
Then, suddenly, the concert starts. The band runs onto the stage, and they each begin to grab their instruments as they welcome the crowd.
I can barely hear what they’re saying with all the screams, shouts, and whistles, but I have to admit I have the best seat in the place.
The alcove is raised slightly, so while I’m a significant distance from the stage, I can clearly see over the crowd.
When The Boys begin to play, I can’t help but get caught up in the performance.
The crowd is wild. I have no idea how we can still hear the music.
There must be some magic to it because the crowd roars so loudly that it sounds like a massive, angry beast. They’re swirling and moving to the music.
I can’t imagine how people aren’t being trampled; maybe they are.
As the set continues, I find myself watching the band. Their focus and joy as they play to the crowd is clear.
Watching Reem play the banjo and occasionally provide vocal accompaniment while blending in with the group is lovely after seeing him assume the role of leader all the time.
Lent’s serious side comes through as he focuses on his guitar and backup vocals. He is clearly a talented musician.
Fem looks more joyful than I’ve ever seen him as he throws himself into playing the fiddle that is tucked under his chin.
Despite my best intentions, though, it’s Dio who most captures my attention.
By the time they’re three songs into the set, his hair is tousled and he’s removed his suit jacket. By the fifth song, he’s rolled up his sleeves slightly and unbuttoned his collar. He’s completely immersed in the music and the crowd, and his passion for the music shows clearly across his face.
I feel disgusted with myself for not being able to look away from someone who’s caused me so much pain.
Then, suddenly, I’m scrubbing at my chest, which I belatedly realize has been aching for a while.
Distracted from the band, I look for my guards and see them resting near the entrance to the alcove, their focus trained on the performance.
One guard is mouthing the words to the song the band is playing.
As I glance back up, I catch a spot of brightness at the edge of my vision.
My fingers tighten into a fist involuntarily as though grasping a sword hilt I don’t have.
The angel stands in the crowd, but instead of facing the stage like everyone else, he’s facing me. He stares directly at me even as I stare back, his gaze predatory. The stillness of him as he stands among the moving crowd is familiar. Like a monster in the water.
As I watch him, my chest continues to ache more strongly, and I scrub at it again, trying to make the pain go away. My gaze moves for a moment, and I catch another spot of brightness. There is a second angel, also standing in the opposite direction of the crowd. This angel is also staring at me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and the ache in my chest continues to increase despite my efforts. I’m suddenly brought back to a different time, a different crowd, and then a fight in the street.
The cartographer in my head directs me to the guards.
I move closer to one of them and, even leaning toward her, have to shout, “I need a restroom.”
She looks uncertainly at the other guard, who moves closer, and I hear her repeat my request.
The other guard looks at me and shakes her head as she yells back, “The band was very clear, miss, you’re not to leave this space. They must be close to done.”
The ache in my chest increases, and I can see the angels still standing unmoving in the swirling crowd, still staring at me.
I wince at the pain in my chest and shout, “Please, I REALLY need the restroom.”
“Oh!” the guard closer to me says and nods as though she’s just understood some big secret. She leans even closer to me and, directly into my ear, says, “I’m sure those men wouldn’t think to expect a woman’s issues, right?” She nudges me gently with her elbow, a friendly smile on her face.
I have no idea what she means, but since she seems willing to take me, I just grin back at her and nod.
She turns back to the other guard and they confer for a moment before she gestures to me with her head to follow. With that, she leads me along the back of the massive room, through the crowd, and to a small, crowded restroom.
She cuts the line with me and claims one of the small rooms as another woman leaves. The next person in line begins to yell at us, but I leave the guard to deal with that mess and escape into the bathroom.
Still allowing my instincts to direct me, I think of Malam and speak his name clearly and as quietly as I can in the small space.
Almost instantly, there is a swirl of black, and then he’s standing in front of me.
He smells of earth, and his short-sleeved, black, linen shirt is rumpled. He doesn’t have shoes on.
I grimace, thinking of his bare feet on the dirty bathroom floor.
He stares at me, and we both freeze for a moment. Then his face goes hard as he says, “Are you ok?”
“I’m not sure,” I say as I rub again at the ache in my chest. I see him note it, as I say, “There are two angels in the crowd watching me.”
“You or the band?”
“Me.”
“Fuck,” he says harshly. Then, after a brief pause, he says, “Give me a moment,” and disappears in a swirl of shadow.
There’s a knock on the door. “What’s going on in there?” asks the guard outside.
“Sorry,” I yell back, “just talking to myself.” I wince as I register how that sounds.
Just as I’m preparing myself for her to break down the door, there’s another swirl of darkness, and Malam materializes in front of me again.
“Take this,” he says, holding out a sword in a sheath with straps hanging from it.
“As you know, this isn’t my fight, and I can’t stay.
I can’t be involved directly in violence against them, or I will break the tenuous truce, and we aren’t ready for that,” his eyes flash as he speaks, and I can see by the set of his shoulders that he is worried.
“Be safe, please?” he says after another moment, and his voice breaks slightly at the end.
Then, without another word, the shadow swirls around him, the sound of wings in the air, and then he’s gone.
Another knock resounds in the small room, which snaps me out of whatever thoughts I was lost in. I quickly strap the sword to my back. With that done, I go to the door and open it to see the guard raising her hand to knock again.
As I’m trying to figure out my story for the sword, I look at her face and see how harried she looks, the crowd pressing against her trying to get to the open door. Because of the chaos, I’m saved from needing to answer. She leads me back through the crowd to the alcove.
Thankfully, neither guard seems to notice my new weapon. As we arrive back at the alcove, I look out to the crowd, searching for the two angels, but I don’t see either of them.
I’m distracted through the rest of the concert, constantly scanning for them in the crowd, even as I enjoy the feel of the sword against my back.