“I must have royally pissed off some goddess, because this is just stupid.”
The bass roaring from the stadium was nearly too loud to hear a thing out of the elf’s mouth, but Momo didn’t have to hear to see the displeasure written into Kasula’s features. Her eyes were pinned to Zephyra’s right hand, where the Soul Splitting Dagger – the precise sharp-edged ‘merchandise’ that Kami and his band of thieves were searching for in Karahtan – was sitting pretty between the paragon’s fingers.
Momo would be lying if she wasn’t relieved.
“So that means you’re coming with us?” she probed happily, failing to hide her excitement. She really hadn’t been looking forward to facing Zephyra alone. She didn’t have to see a Paragon class stat breakdown to know that the elf-celebrity would probably be able to persuade her to do just about anything – and Momo really meant anything; with that ungodly amount of Charisma, she’d have Momo streaking across the stage naked, jumping into an ice bath, and publicly declaring that the Queendom of Morganium was being renamed into the Zephyra Fan Support Station.
Kasula huffed. “It seems the universe is giving me no other choice. But I still can’t find a single reason for my insane sister, of all people, to be in possession of one of the Wraith Artifacts. The information we had for the dagger all pointed towards some guy named Count Marzipan. He fits the profile for the type of asshole who’d own a dagger like that. Filthy rich, well-known collector of illicit goods, total show-off type.”
“Maybe Zephyra beat him to it?” Momo said with a shrug. “Put in an offer they couldn’t refuse?”
Kasula laughed. “No way. She keeps everything above board, at least publicly. If something came out about a Beau Idéal’s paragon daughter dipping her perfectly manicured talons into the illegal wraith trading ring, all hell would break loose.”
“If I’m being honest, I’m struggling to understand that sentence,” Momo mumbled.
“Let me translate,” Kasula said, looming over Momo like a long, skinny shadow. Nyk watched the display with mild interest, tossing the crumpled poster from hand to hand. “If my sister has that dagger, either she’s gotten herself into some deep shit on accident, or, vastly worse, on purpose.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
—
A guard materialized outside the arena thirty minutes after the encore performance. Luckily for Momo and her two broody companions, they had so far avoided a flood of adrenaline-sick groupies. Due to the arena’s odd architecture, the rabid fans were still trapped inside. The building was constructed of hundreds of conjoined cylinders, where fans could watch the paragon from inside claustrophobic tubes, their faces pressed to the transparent surface. There were no stairs, so maneuvering around other fans required crawling and pushing. Momo imagined the architect originally designed the tubes to work like a slide, so attendants could shuffle out on their ass when the concert concluded, but in practice, due to the sheer number of people inside, it was blocked up like some giant’s gastrointestinal tract.
“Miss. Ren is ready for you,” the security guard said, his voice strained. It was a different guard than before. This one had a name tag that read Sergeant Gulp, Tuberena Security Force. In stark contrast to the guards at the gate, he was small, agile, with emaciated limbs. The perfect build for maneuvering around those hellish tubes. Just seeing his flushed cheeks and fresh bruises made Momo grateful she had been drafted into the necromancer war and not the security fleet for the world’s biggest fire hazard–erm–music venue.
All it takes is a little perspective to make you remember how good you’ve got it.
“Please tell me we’re not going in the way you came,” Kasula said dryly. “I’d rather swim with some Nether barracudas than get manhandled by a bunch of sis’s groupies.”
“I fear that we will have to, Miss. Ren. It is the only way in and out of the building. My most sincere apologies,” he said, teeth chattering. He looked both traumatized and terrifying, like a rabid, chittering chihuahua. It made Momo wish she had jurisdiction here – she’d be very curious to take a gander at these guy’s contracts. “However, I have been specifically appointed to see that not a single finger lays upon you. Any assailant that dares will face the full wrath of the Tuberena Security Force.”
Demonstrating his alleged wrath, the guard bit at the air several times, clamping down his teeth. Momo had never imagined what it might look like to see a fully grown man chomp at the air like a dog, but the result made her viscerally uncomfortable. I guess it’s not just an Earth thing, Momo thought. No matter the universe, people will always act clinically insane around famous people. Fascinating.
Kasula just sighed, muttered something under her breath, and started walking.