Zoey stumbled back. Everyone was screaming.
She was surprised to find that her arm was still attached to her body. And in fact, Molech’s two hands were still clasped to it. But Molech was not attached to his hands.
He was standing ten feet away, staring at the neat, bloody stumps where his hands used to be. Standing in between Molech and Zoey was Armando, holding a bloody, smoking katana and looking as startled as anyone. Zoey frantically pried the two disembodied hands off her arm and flung them to the ground, like they were a couple of huge, disgusting insects that had landed on her.
Molech continued staring at the two spots in his universe that for his entire life up to now had always been occupied by hands. He did not scream, or panic, or cry. He bared his teeth and furrowed his brow, then slowly closed his eyes. Frustration, like he had just busted out in a game of poker and was already trying to think of ways to get his money back.
His henchmen, on the other hand, were staring wide-eyed, like their whole world had come undone, as if they’d just seen the sky open up and a huge God poop fall out. One of them bent over and started retching.
Molech turned and stumbled toward his truck, barking at his men for help.
Zoey grabbed Armando’s sleeve and said, “Finish him.”
But Armando was staring at the smoldering katana, which had two ragged, charred notches in the blade, like a demon had been gnawing on it.
Zoey shook him.
“Hey! He’s getting way!”
Armando snapped out of it. He moved toward Molech, but now Molech’s henchmen had closed ranks, forming a bare-chested wall around their boss. Black Scott was dragging Molech into the bed of the monster truck, and the rest of the dudes piled in. The crowd parted as the massive truck rumbled away, its fake engine sounds droning into the distance.
There was stunned silence in the crowd. After all this buildup, the whole thing had played out in less than five minutes.
Armando put a finger in his ear and said, “Jeff? You there? We need to make sure that truck never gets where it’s going. Especially if it’s going to a hospital.”
Armando watched the truck round a corner. He looked down at the katana again, then walked over and handed it back to Wu, who was standing in awe.
Armando said, “This is a genuine katana. I owe you an apology. And I will replace it, I think I ruined the—”
He was cut off by a hug from Zoey. “Holy crap! Suddenly I get why you charge three hundred an hour.”
“And to think that I took this job without finding out how truly crazy you are. You got right in his face.”
Andre had made his way to the scattered, flaming ruins of the pyre and found where the microphone had been tossed aside.
He picked it up, turned to the stunned crowd and said, “Uh, thanks for watching, everybody. That was of course a scripted event that, oddly enough, was laid out in Arthur’s strangely specific will. Those were all actors, everything is fine. Drop party starts in thirty minutes!”
The crowd cheered. The band started playing again. Zoey found Will, who was looking down at the two severed hands at his feet, their fingers still twitching in the dirt. She couldn’t tell whether he was happy or unhappy with this result. Echo appeared, and placed the two severed hands in a cooler she had stolen from somebody. They were getting quite a collection of hands.
Zoey said, “He’ll bleed out, right? You can’t just … lose two limbs like that.”
After a long pause, Will said, “Probably.”
“Was that a real offer you made him? Were you really going to go along as his hostage?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s done. It’s fine.”
He turned to walk away.
Zoey said, “Hey! We won, right?”
“Sure. Go get something to eat, you did good. Go enjoy the rest of the party.”
Zoey watched him walk away.
“Hey! You still need to show me how to do the coin trick!”
No response, and then he was swallowed by the crowd.
Enjoy the rest of the party. That was, in context, the most laughably inappropriate suggestion she’d been given in her entire life. But, sure enough, ten feet away the party had in fact resumed as normal. This was Tabula Ra$a, it probably wasn’t considered a real party until somebody got threatened and dismembered. And the ones who had come specifically for the drama, well, they were only disappointed that it wasn’t worse.
Zoey said to Armando, “Come on. I’m buying you a drink.”
“I can’t drink alcohol on the job, Zoey. And we should get you out of here, Molech’s thugs might come charging back, especially if their boss dies…”
“Yep, I totally agree.”
She hustled him away, toward a stand she thought she remembered passing earlier. They arrived at a dark corner between food tents, where a tiny potpourri-smelling drink tent had been wedged in. A crude hand-painted sign claimed to sell “SPIRIT TEAS.” The menu was promising “potions” that could make you smarter or happier or ease your anxiety. Heavily featured at the top was an unnamed concoction with no description—just a picture of a thermometer with the red mercury pegged to the top. She asked for two, and the hippie girl behind the counter refused to take her money. Get rich enough, Zoey thought, and you don’t have to pay for anything.
Zoey handed one to Armando and said, “It’ll warm you up.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
He pulled at her elbow and they immediately ran into Andre, who had pushed through the crowd, looking mildly panicked.
“Ah, there you are.” To Armando he said, “Got the three worst hand injuries into ambulances. One of the snipers took shrapnel to the face, might lose an eye.”
Armando said, “We are going to get her off the grounds. Tell Wu he’s in charge.”
Zoey said, “Not until I get something to eat. I deserve it, even Will said so.”
Armando glanced around at the crowd and said, “Zoey, I…”
“No. Screw Molech, and all of the people out there rooting for him. He doesn’t get to run me out of my own party.”
“You didn’t even want to come.”
“I’m getting something to eat, and then we’ll go. I’m fed up with this victim crap.” She shook his hand off her arm. “And I’m tired of being led around like a corgi at a dog show. Don’t do that again.”
Andre said, “So sayeth the queen. You ever had a Danish hot dog?”
“Is that food or a crude innuendo?”
“It’s a gourmet hot dog, like they make them in Denmark. Sweet cinnamon bun, caramelized onions, mustard. Like a party in your mouth. Comes with a bag of donut fries.”
“Lead the way.”
Ten minutes later Zoey was eating the last third of a hot dog, sipping magic tea, and tromping up a flight of stairs, following Andre. They were in a hotel overlooking the park, and when Zoey asked Andre if he had a room or something he said no, and just kept going up the stairs.
Finally they reached a door marked “ROOF” and they emerged into a chilly but quiet rooftop, overlooking the chaos of the Arthur Livingston Memorial Service from twenty stories up. Below them, bright specks of orange flashed and danced in the firepots, columns of smoke and steam drifted out of the food tents, music wafted up through the chilled air. The bouncy castle was rocking back and forth from the reverberation of partiers jumping around inside, like the huge inflatable structure itself was dancing to the rhythm. The once-mighty Beer Mountain was now just a smashed pancake of dirty snow, and Zoey could see the specks of a few desperate people stomping around it, trying to fish out the last of the free beers. From up here, it looked like fun. Zoey decided this was about the right distance for her to enjoy a party.
They weren’t alone on the roof, some other kids had found their way up there and apparently it wasn’t a secret spot, since security guards in yellow vests were standing along the edge. Still, it was a hundred times quieter than the pounding din of the party. Zoey finished her hot dog and couldn’t find a trash can to throw the wax paper into, so she wadded it up and stuffed it into the pocket of her blazer. She thought about Arthur holding his meeting with Singh atop Livingston Tower and how rich people seemed to like high places—penthouse apartments, high corner offices with a view of everything—and for the first time saw the appeal. All the little people scurrying silently below you while you look down, untouchable. She had to admit—she liked the view.
Behind her, Armando was spitting instructions to Wu that Wu was receiving with mild amusement, humoring him. Zoey got the sense that Wu had been in the business longer than Armando. He knew what he was doing.
Armando said to her, “They stopped Molech’s truck, about six blocks away.”
“Is he dead?”
“Still waiting for confirmation.”
Wu pulled out his katana, examining the charred gouges in the blade.
Armando said, “Like hacking through a power line.”
Wu shook his head. “What kind of a man would willingly implant machinery inside him?”
Armando shrugged. “My father has a pacemaker. I will buy you a new katana, but you will have to tell me where to find one.”
Wu shook his head. “Nonsense. If this blade could speak, it would not have asked for a long retirement on my mantel. It met its end in battle, just as it was created for.”
Armando rolled his eyes and sipped his tea.
Zoey said, “You like it?”
“It tastes like flowers or something.”
“When have you ever eaten a flower?”
“You know what I mean. Also, I am not sure what the secret ingredient is, but I am starting to think it’s not sugar and spice. I feel like I am getting hot flashes.”
Zoey agreed, the warming effect was kind of alarming. All at once she felt like she was dressed too warm for the weather, even though it couldn’t have been above forty degrees on the rooftop
Armando listened to something in his earpiece, then said, “Car is ready. Let’s move.” He came up to her and started to put a hand on her elbow, then stopped himself.
Zoey downed the last of her tea, and had an almost medical urge to get out of her clothes. She stood on the ledge and watched the mass of partygoers swirl in and out of the park like ants, and wondered how many of those people were going to be having sex in the next few hours.
She started to tell Armando she was ready to go, but from behind them, came soft footsteps.
Zoey had time to hear Andre say, “I really am sorry about this, guys.”
And then a strong hand shoved her off the roof, and she was falling down, and down and down, through the frigid night air.