Part IV
It was a mere half-hour to sunset, and Suanluz was slowly waking up. A few restaurants had already been open for a few hours, and the last shops were beginning to close; but downtown was already pulsating. All of the vehicles had cleared the area, as required by Old Town’s edicts, save for the infrequent trolley car that drove through the center of the street. The air was charged with the first carnal drumbeats from the many clubs and venues, and the ocean’s cool humidity began to descend southward, a nightly relief from the intense heat of the tropical environment.
From atop the Maidra Hotel, easily the oldest building in the city-state and one of the only buildings that survived the hurricane of 1201, Ren felt the chill from Annamarti Bay and immediately regretted leaving her jacket at Viji’s. More likely than not, the temperature would not faze her shortly, but for now, it was enough to further irritate her, as she fought to avoid interactions with Mason, who had boldly placed his hands on top of the brick wall in front of them. He was staring down at the street below, where clubhoppers were beginning their rounds at the hotel.
The Maidra had been many things in its multiple-century existence; originally a tavern and inn called the Annamaidra, it became a meeting hall, hospital, council building, courthouse, mayoral estate, orphanage, and now hotel and nightclub. Standing four stories tall, it wasn’t the most magnificent structure and wasn’t even the best example of Torchi architecture; it was box-shaped with yellow ochre clay bricks and symmetrically-placed frameless windows. The interior was what fascinated nearly everyone who entered: pale exposed brick walls, richly colored frescoes, tall ceilings, arched doorways, and dark wood furnishings. When the Old Town council began its historical restoration of certain areas of the district, they didn’t expect that the building’s new identity would succeed and hoped that it could be moved out of Suanluz and into a more respectable area, where it could be transformed into a museum. To their public dismay — yet private excitement — it proved profitable and was a revered tourist attraction that even the most detestable refused to vandalize. The basement served as the nightclub and bar, while the rest of the building housed some of Torch’s wealthiest visitors.
“Do you think they’ll really show up here?” Mason asked, still browsing the activity on the street. “Old Town is a very large area and -”
Ren took a deep breath. They were still not on good terms, and she had barely spoken to the Scholar since leaving Viji’s. While they had walked to Suanluz, she had noticed him out of the corner of her eye, opening his mouth to say something only to draw back out of uncertainty. It was an uncomfortable silence, one that Ren hoped would convince him to return to Phelan Dormani with a personal failure to report.
“Viji’s information is correct, Alderic,” said Ren shortly, cutting him off. “If he says they’re here, then they’re here.”
He still refused to look directly at her, instead intently watched the quickly evolving scene. The deep bass of the dancing music in the Maidra’s basement had started to vibrate the building all the way to its flat roof. The russet sunlight was beginning to dim even more, and the darkest parts of the city were starting to come alive. More people had flooded into the streets, flowing between each other as if blood through a vein.
“I just don’t see how -”
“Look, kid, I’ve been doing this for a long time, and Viji has me beat by decades. I get that you’re ready to go, but seriously, if you’re going to be here because of Dormani’s meddling, just shut up and observe. We’ll both be happier that way.”
“You know, I’m not completely useless,” complained Mason, frowning like a spoiled child. “I do have training, and I could be of help to you.”
“Oh, you could? Well, let’s see. Do you know anything about these demons? Insights? Scholarly advice?”
Mason blinked rapidly.
“Do you want to fight them? Give me the night off?”
“I … I can’t do -”
“I rest my case.”
He waited a few beats before trying again, tension rising in his voice.
“I don’t know why you’re so hostile to me,” he said, his ears turning red. “I’m only doing what I’m told to do.”
She was starting to actually get angry. Of all the mindless things he could have said. She stuck her finger directly in front of his nose.
“So by ‘doing what you were told to do,’ you destroyed my chance at stopping these things last night and instead have forced me to go on the defensive, only I’m now basically going in completely blind. If anyone dies, it’s on your head, not mine.”
Mason sputtered in frustration, the first hint of any aggression she had seen in the boy.
“What? You let them escape …” From the last syllable’s volume change and the several steps he took backward, Ren knew he immediately regretted speaking his mind, but the ire steadily growing over the past few hours had already reached its breaking point.
“I let them escape? I let them –” She clenched her fist and glared at him, but instead of punching him off the roof like she wanted to, she began pacing. “Or maybe you announced my name in the middle of a crowded bar!”
“Ren, I -”
“And then you got in my way! And you thought I was a man!”
“Your name sounds very masculine!” He backed farther away defensively. “I didn’t know!”
She maintained a firm glare at him, letting him squirm for a good solid minute.
“I hope they eat you,” she scoffed, turning away and returning to her gargoyle-esque task of watching the nightlife of Torch.
She almost felt a stab of regret for treating him so harshly. None of this really was his fault; that blame was laid squarely on Dormani’s shoulders. But any rueful emotions were quickly overrun by annoyance as she recalled his exercising his authority over her earlier. She wondered what Viji had said to him when she had retreated upstairs.
But then she saw them: at the entrance of Rajura, the club across the street, the two demons had latched onto another couple, this time a pair of teenage women, who both appeared to be from the same southeastern region as she was. The demons must have been desperate; they had deviated from their pattern. The male, looking much more gaunt than the previous night, had his arms draped over both of the girls’ shoulders, while the female was stroking the dark hair of the shorter girl. The group was near the front of the line waiting to get into the club, which was slowly advancing forward, and Ren hoped she would be able to reach them before they got inside. She would need to act fast.
Without thinking, Ren sprang onto the edge of the roof, preparing to drop down to the sidewalk, but Mason was quick to grab her arm.
“There’s no way I can jump down that far without hurting myself,” he complained. “I’d break every bone in my body!”
I don’t have time for this. Ren snarled and threw up her hands, a seemingly perpetual gesture for her the past twenty-four hours. She stepped back down onto the roof and bolted toward the fire escape they had used earlier without looking back at Mason.
“If you can’t keep up this time, that’s not really my problem.”
* * *
Rajura had made a name for itself, even as far as north to where even Mason had heard of it, as one of the seediest places in Torch that still had a selective door policy. It was almost a game for those trying to get in, since no one really knew the criteria. Some said the management had a theme for the type of customers they wanted that they chose on a nightly basis; others claimed that the bouncers picked people at random and then expected favors afterward. Regardless of either situation, every night of the week, the line was always wrapped around the building, and tonight was no different.
By the time Ren and Mason had arrived, the demons and their prey had already entered the club, which led Ren to angrily sigh at him. He was glad she didn’t start yelling again, especially in front of the crowd, but he felt her disapproval deeply.
“We can’t be far behind,” he said optimistically, but the Legion didn’t respond. She instead started toward the entrance with a determination in her step, walking along the edge of the queue.
The bouncer at the door was a short yet intimidating Torchi man with rows of circles tattooed on his cheeks. His biceps flexed as he barred entry to a group of local teenagers, who spouted off various what Mason assumed were obscenities. He wasn’t fazed even as one of the larger teen boys bowed up at him; he stared blankly at the young man, who second-guessed his decision to challenge the bouncer and backed off, muttering something in Torchi.
When the bouncer caught sight of the fast-approaching Ren, Mason saw him slightly set his jaw more firmly. Perhaps he was familiar with her, or perhaps he just recognized the confidence and inevitable challenge she would present him. Mason was not expecting things to go well.
Ren stepped over the velvet ropes, much to the consternation of those who had been waiting patiently for what might have been hours, but no one said much after Ren delivered the iciest glower Mason had ever seen to a very loud young woman who was audacious enough to protest. Once they reached the bouncer, however, it seemed he had prepared himself for a physical confrontation.
“I’m not looking for a fight, Rahul,” said Ren in Trade, raising her palms defensively.
The bouncer cracked a small smile. “When has that been true, Legion? The last time you were here, we could nearly pay for a complete remodeling of the place from the amount of damage you caused.”
“That was the demon, not me, and if I recall correctly, I saved your ass personally.”
“Don’t matter, Legion,” said Rahul, curling his lip. “We’re over capacity as it is. There’s a show tonight.”
Mason cursed himself as Rahul’s expression hardened, but Ren had everything under control. She lowered her voice as she began to speak Torchin, maintaining intense eye contact. Mason saw her grip the bouncer’s forearm and noticed a slight twitch underneath his right eye. He then grunted in agreement and, after Ren released him from her grasp, opened the door, resulting in a very vocal objection from the crowd.
“Thanks, Rahul,” Ren said with a wink as she passed him. He grumbled under his breath, but Ren didn’t seem too concerned with it.
“How’d you do that?” Mason asked, leaning close to Ren’s ear.
She shrugged. “I appealed to his better nature.”
Mason glanced back at Rahul, who was gingerly rubbing his arm as he closed the door behind them.
Singularly focused, Ren marched directly over to speak with the woman who was collecting cover fees. In addition to the deafening music coming through the walls, the entire exchange was conducted in Torchin, so Mason had no idea as to what was being said. Regardless, they were allowed into Rajura, even if the woman at the counter did not seem happy about it as she pressed a button to open the dingy metal door into the heart of the club.
Mason had to cover his ears as he and Ren entered, but Ren didn’t seem to be impacted by the cacophony of electronica, indecipherable voices, and other ambient noises. He had felt out of place in Gevosa’s the night before, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
It took him a few minutes to adjust his eyes to the club, where everyone, it seemed, was relying solely upon the frenetic pink and blue lights zipping around them instead of any type of overhead lights. At the entrance was a small bar and a semicircle arrangement of rather uncomfortable-looking white chairs, each with at least four people lounging on them. Only a few steps away, the floor dipped into an area-like pit, packed tightly with people dancing to the trance-inducing beat. On a raised stage to the left of the dance floor, a bizarrely costumed performer belted perfectly pitched lyrics in sync with the bass vibrating through unseen speakers. Jason wished he knew the language in which she was singing; at least then he could explain the overpowering arousal he was feeling just by watching her move. She was dressed in an angular gold leotard with a sheer gold train attached at the waist and had woven her auburn tresses in an ornate updo. Her makeup was even harsher than the conical shoulder pads of her outfit: thick black eyeliner and lipstick, exaggerated fake eyelashes that were nearly three inches long, and bright red circles on her cheeks instead of rouge. Her backup dancers were wearing much tamer attire and also seemed to be attracted to her as she prowled aggressively across the stage.
Mason felt a slight tug on his sleeve and met the gaze of a rushed Ren. Feeling his face flush, he followed behind her quickly, ever so slightly glancing back at the woman on the stage.
Even with the amount of people dancing in the pit, the rest of Rajura was just as jammed with revelers. They were crowding around the gigantic main bar, trying to imbibe either the trendiest or cheapest drinks available. The dozen or so bartenders were operating on autopilot, barely stopping to actually look at any customers before rushing to make the next mixer that was ordered. It was excessively hotter in the building than on the streets, as if the ventilation system could not keep up with the amount of body heat, and almost everyone had stripped down to the littlest amount of clothing possible without being completely naked.
“Can you even see anything in here?” screamed Mason to Ren.
With a quick nod, she pointed toward the back of the club where a metal staircase led to the second floor balcony that ended directly before it would intersect the stage, where the singer had begun a new number.
“Better vantage point!” she yelled in his ear.
The task seemed daunting as he looked out over the crowd, thick with people grinding upon each other, but they maneuvered through them with ease thanks to Ren’s expertise. She somehow was able to avoid the multiple dancing offers Mason received from various clubbers, with one girl purposefully spilling her drink on him in an attempt to convince him to take it off; he tried not to think about how this was a one-of-a-kind creation from an exclusive Moneterasian clothier, a gift from his mother for his graduation from seminary. Certainly Viji knew of an excellent dry cleaner.
As soon as they reached the stairs, Ren abruptly stopped on the second step, her attention diverted to yet another small bartop near the back of Rajura. Mason craned his neck and saw the demons, sitting on stools and monitoring their prey, both of whom were transfixed by the singer the stage.
Finally! Mason clasped his hands together. Now he’d finally get to see a Legion at work.
a little more juju 