Hey, I’m sorry for being so harsh yesterday. No, I mean it. Stupid-ass thing you did, but I know where you’re coming from, and the reason I’ve been telling you all this - god knows if you’re even listening - is ‘cause I like you. You’re going through some shock, I know. I would be too, in your position. I know where you’ve been, I know what you’ve done, and I know what sort of principles drive a person to do what you decided to do. So let’s get the shit outta the air, right? And I’m a busy woman, but I can take twenty minutes out of my day for you ‘cause you deserve more than just a slap on the wrist. You deserve more than just being told, “Bad boy,” and sent home, which is the way the guards would have it; you deserve an explanation. So that’s what I intend to give you, and I guess that’s why I’ve been telling you all this, ‘cause maybe then you can see why I run things the way I do.

Next night after I wrote that spell, my band had this gig. “The Palm from Whence Comes the Flame,” yeah, those guys. Set to play this club on Swift Street, place was owned by Cypher. Didn’t scare any of us, though, I mean Cypher owned half the places down there; just how it was. I was helping Celi - drummer - unload gear outta her truck when I saw him, that guy Groth. Felt my face go cold when I spotted him, leaning up against the wall just a few steps away, smoking this joint all slow, and I couldn’t see his face, really, not in the dark, but I knew it was him. Could make out the beard, the roundish face, stout body. Lifted the joint to his face, took a huge hit, end of it burned a deadly orange.

“Shit,” I whispered, and Celi looked at me kinda strange, thinking I’d broken a piece of equipment or something. “Nah, it’s nothing,” I said, and I took the snare stand and headed into the building.

“No, what?” she insisted, tailing me, struggling to get the bass drum through the door. Shimmied through the narrow hallway after me.

“No, really, nothing.” I repeated. She gave me this look, though, so I was like, “That guy out there; I know him. Bartender. Cypher came in, wanting to buy his place. Said no. Or at least that’s what it seems like. Basically, I’m sitting in there and they come in again, maybe second, third time from what I gather, whole bunch of ‘em, smashed his face in and threw him out the door. Said he’d be ‘compensated.’ Don’t think he was.”

“Shit, man,” Celi muttered. “Kar know they do shit like that?”

“Kar was there.” Her face went white, whiter than it already was under the black lights lining the hallway that lead to the green room. Could hear music through the walls. Sounded like Serial Agitator, which meant there were two more bands before us. “Yeah, he was there, he wrecked that guy’s face himself.”

“My god.” I barely heard her over those double bass rolls shaking the whole place, saw Morji come back here through the curtain that led to the hall, big fuckin’ grin on his face.

“Sound guy’s off ‘is shits,” he noted. “Doesn’t know how to EQ this shit, been doin’ too much EDM. Gonna get ‘n that booth myself, swear to god.”

“Hey, man, Raena tell you?” No, no, don’t fuckin’ do this. “She saw a guy’s face get torn off yesterday. Kar did it.”

“Who the fuck’s Kar?”

Tried to correct her. “No, just got his nose broken. One of Cypher’s. Wanted his place to peddle out of, I’m assuming.”

“Shit, you okay? You don’t tell me nothin’, do ya?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Then Kaels and Jol turned up, like thirty minutes after call. They were bassist and guitarist, respectively. Brothers, those two, and they used to switch off, but Jol is honestly shit at bass; he thinks you can just play it like guitar, but you can’t. I do vocals, but I could’ve been bassist or guitarist and I kinda wish I had been one of those and let Jol do vocals ‘cause I didn’t know how to do them properly. I mean cleans were fine, but screams tore my throat right up. It’s why I sound like this, I think, that and the whiskey. Could’ve gotten my throat fixed up but I like it this way now that I’m used to it. Anyway, I landed in that position when they were auditioning people, the brothers, and I thought it was a good idea at the time, ‘cause goddamn, does it feel good to just let the fuck loose. Was shit at gutturals, didn’t have that mid-range bark, didn’t have anything, just my pure, unadulterated . . . well, you know how it is, when you hear something that raw, you’re taken aback a little, and these kids, when they heard me, they just felt it I guess. I mean that and I’m the only one who could do cleans.

But of course Celi felt the need to tell them everything, and I couldn’t get her to shut up. Kaels was like, “Damn, would’ve liked to see that,” and Morji almost fuckin’ slapped him. Could see it in the way he reared up a little.

Jol was a little scared of Morji, I think, and I’d bet he was thinking the same thing as his brother but he was just like, “I’m so sorry, Raena; god, must’ve been awful.” Came in to give me a hug; could feel the kid’s ribs.

“She’s fine, bruh.”

“Just trying to be sympathetic is all.”

“You’re tryna get some.” Jol let go all of a sudden, jabbed his brother in the gut. Kaels shrugged him off, laughing.

God, it felt like hours of that shit, questions about that incident at the bar, right up until it was our time to sound check. Just about to do mine when I noticed Kar sitting all gangster-like in this big, fancy chair at the back of the house under this big-ass poster for Magefucker that had their frontman all hunched over, just screaming his lungs out at the Oracle in ‘61. Famous fuckin’ shot from a famous fuckin’ show. The poster was black and white, but with this border of red neon that hit Kar’s face; this stark, bloody sheen that gave the veins popping out of his forehead their own shadows.

I let loose into the mic, but it came out all wrong. This pinched little sound, could hardly believe it was me. “Sorry, I’ll try that one again.” Sound guy nodded. The next one was better, but I still felt like I wasn’t really hitting it, didn’t get that gut feeling. Those six guys were with Kar, too, all black tank tops and dark glasses and muscles and just about everything you think Cypher thugs must’ve looked like.

Sound check went fine, and the show went fine, too, except I couldn’t rip my eyes off of Kar’s bobbing head, flailing arms, that stupid hair that made his head look like a durian. Some guy went to open a door halfway through the set ‘cause it was burning the fuck up and then there was Groth in the alley right outside, crushing a joint beneath his boot. Came inside, went up to the bar, ordered a drink, sat down on a barstool. Drank it through a straw.

He finished it fast. Ordered another one. I barely heard myself, barely heard my band. Whatever, bet the hall couldn’t hear me either, this sound guy was shit. We finished our set and I felt this weird urge to go talk to Groth. But what the fuck would I say? Last he saw me, I left him lying on the concrete, and there was nothing I could do, nothing. Then I saw Kar bullying some guy - probably not pushing Corn or anything, just liked to make himself seen, I think - so I pushed my way through the pit, still untangling itself, and made my way over to him. Had this idea; not a very good idea, but it was something.

“Hey, Kar.”

“Raena!”

I swallowed. He turned around and just . . . loomed, felt like he was gonna topple on me. I mean he wasn’t that much taller but goddamn, that extra few inches really did something right then, especially since we had to be so close given the crowd and all. “Hey, Kar, I was thinking, I thought that, you know, these amps we’re using, they’re -”

“Raena, I really liked your show. I mean it.” I looked back, met Morji’s eyes. “That was so extraordinarily exquisite; hey, hey, don’t get scared off because of yesterday. That needed to be done. You don’t know Groth. He’s not who you think he is. I’m setting things right here. Cypher runs a business just like anyone else, and our methods may be severe, but we, you and I, Raena, we know we mean well. We -”

“Kar, I’m asking for help.” He stopped mid-sentence. This weird-ass lopsided smile flashed across his face, and he glanced around the room, looked at the ceiling for a second. “Kar, we need money to buy new amps. These ones are going. Well, not going, but just . . . Kaels and Jol have their eye on these new ones, they can go really loud and -”

“Loud?” Something vanished from his eyes; he looked at me flatly.

“Well, they’ve got this whole other range of frequencies, they’re . . . Kar, do you have anything to spare? I know it’s not critical but we want to keep doing shows and this would really, really help.” He was quiet. I hated the sweetness in my own voice. “Kar?”

“Yeah, follow me.” He cupped my upper arm in his hand and led me through the pit, back to where his guys were standing. I looked back at Morji again. Couldn’t find him. Locked eyes with Kaels this time. He looked away.

“Hey,” Kar snapped. His guys ignored him. “Hey.” Guys turned to face him. Weren’t in any rush to, though. “My friend Raena needs assistance. Give her everything Lanu gave me for tonight. Not a bit short.” His hand moved from my arm to the small of my back; his touch was light like he wanted the move to seem effortless, but his fingertips were burning with intention.

One of the guys nodded and they all went outside. Didn’t think we were gonna follow but pretty soon Kar was pushing me along and the cold air hit my face. We went out to this black car with tinted windows and I felt my stomach churn. Those old pre-’62 gangster movies came up again for me; could see the blood spatter on the back window after Kar jammed a shotgun up under my chin, pulled the trigger and let it blow apart my skull and everything inside, let it all hit the glass. But no, I knew that wasn’t gonna happen. Had no reason to.

One of the guys opened a back door and Kar gestured for him to move aside, held it open for me. Scared shitless, not gonna lie. Crawled into the cabin of the car and sat down, completely fuckin’ rigid. Like I don’t think I could move a muscle if I wanted to; the whole interior was clean, just completely spotless. Iridescent lights lined the cupholders, the steering wheel. The seats were a sterilized beige.

Kar followed me in, forcing me to slide a couple seats over. Sat down next to me, opened this compartment under the seat in front of him, brought out a wad of cash. Flipped through it. “Ten thousand bits.” I stared. “Do whatever your heart desires, Raena.” God, my fingers were shaky as hell, could barely grab the thing. Felt like someone was gonna pull a gun on me any second. “Now, let’s get back to the concert; shall we?” He opened the door and slid out and held the door open in what I’m sure he thought was one continuous movement. I tried to get out with my dignity intact.

One of Kar’s guys grabbed his shoulder, and Kar jerked his head toward the guy, all nervous. Wasn’t sure if I was home free yet, so I just kept walking; cold as ass outside. Passed through the door and the heat hit me again. Started sweating up a storm. Felt all those little pricks on my arms, my scalp. Found my way to the bar, the pink backlight silhouetting the grid of shelves and jamming itself into my retinas through the cracks. Saw the shape of that beard again, saw a crooked nose against the wall of pink.

“Groth.” My voice came out strained as hell, forceful. He twitched. “Groth, I’m sorry I just left you there. I’m sorry I -”

“Fucking hell, kid, did you not think to call me a goddamn ambulance?” Low and full of grit. Guy could do gutturals for us. “Phone was right there on the counter. Fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry, Groth, I’m so -”

“Cut the shit, kid. You can’t help me.”

Now, that seems pretty fuckin’ obvious to a kid like you, I’m sure. But to me, we just didn’t call, ‘cause that was the embassy we were calling. And if they sent an ambulance they also sent mages, which means you make one wrong move and they just fuckin’ fry you. I mean, not if you’re up in Sanctis, but if you’re in Derdian, sure. And then even if they didn’t kill you on sight, they’d pack you in the truck and send you off to the embassy where they’ve just got some basic-ass shit that could keep you right on the edge, and then they contact all these hospitals, private hospitals. Sell you to the highest bidder. Then the embassy’d charge you a fuckton for bringing you there, and then you’re gonna get charged a fuckton more for whatever the hospital did, which was usually not nearly enough because, hell, they already got their money from the embassy, they’re getting their money from you because if you don’t pay it you get locked the fuck up, and then you pay it and you get locked the fuck up anyway ‘cause you can’t pay your rent, so they’ve got zero motivation to actually do what they’re s’posed to.

But what I ended up doing is shutting my mouth and just holding out the cash for him. Finally turned to face me, and I could see the bruises, the gauze, the wide open wounds with little crusty bits. Looks like he didn’t get to a hospital of his own accord, either, just tried to self-treat. The fuck was he getting mad at me for?

“You think this helps?” he spat. I retracted my arm a bit. Couldn’t look him in the eye. “What the fuck is in this? How much? What’d you do to get it, cozy up to Cypher? Yeah, I saw you. You know what kinda shit you’re getting involved in?”

“Look, I -” I couldn’t get a word in.

“If you wanna help me, I’m gonna ask one thing of you: don’t get in my way.” He reached down, cautiously. The sheer fucking discipline it must’ve taken, drunk as he was. Pulled his coat back and revealed a handgun, worn grey thing.

“Look, please tell me you’re only going after the people who deserve it.” I glanced backwards. Kar was back in his chair under the poster. “There are a lot of people in here, you can’t just -”

“Oh, I can just.”

“No, you’re gonna miss, you’re gonna hit someone. How many drinks have you -”

“Fuck’s it matter to you.”

“Calm down, okay? You’re gonna hit someone. You’re gonna -”

Suddenly I couldn’t hear shit, just this icy fuckin’ silence that ripped through my right ear. Spun around, saw the whole room scattering. Bodies slammed into me; I slipped, caught a barstool. Dull thump on the back of my head. It was dark down here, blurry. Gripped the bar, pulled myself up, fought against the suction of the floor. Those pink lights again, that grid, elongated horizontal cells, capsizing, suddenly vertical. I went down. Tucked my arms into my sides. A boot hit me in the hip and this searing electric tendril shot up and down my whole body. Pushed myself off the floor; it was too much pressure. I went back down. Tried again a couple moments later. Got on my feet, squatted. Tucked my head between my knees and guarded my face with my arms. Tried to pop my right ear.

Don’t know how long it was, but eventually the hall cleared. People died, yeah, got trampled. There were people lying on the floor, coulda been unconscious, except they were in all these positions. Face down, arm behind the back, leg at a ninety-degree angle out from the other leg at the knee. You look at a person and it’s like, bodies don’t just move like that, you look at a person lying like that and you know nothing’s there. Looked for Morji, Celi, Jol, Kaels. Didn’t really feel anything when looking; you can’t process any of that shit until you know you can afford it, you get me?

No sign of them, but what I did see was two of those six guys. One with a clean hole in his chest, the other missing a couple fingers off his left hand and a gaping chunk of skull blown off his head. Big red streak on the Magefucker poster above him. Just like what I thought’d happen to me if I got in that car.

I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I looked for that money, just in case. Gone. Went back to the green room, went out that way, under the black lights. And I’d got here with Morji and I couldn’t find him anywhere, so I just walked home, in my sleeveless jacket, in the freezing fucking cold. Home to Morji’s place. You’ve got movies, kid. You’ve seen this shit, but it’s nothing like the real thing. And two days ago was the closest you’re ever gonna get to seeing the real thing, because of me. I made it this way. You raise a hand against your fellow asshole, you end up here, instantly, no theatrics or anything. Do you appreciate just how fucking amazing that is? Anyway, I’ve stayed too long. But just think on that, alright? Just think about it.