Page 9 of Amethyst Flame
A pure note sang out, and then warped into an electric whine, and when it reached a high scream—like a voice crying out for blood—a fast beat punched through the air and hit every nerve in my body.
The crowd screamed and jumped into the rhythm. If the venue had been loud before, it was now a torrent of organized noise.
Lights flashed, alternating hot white and deep red. The first songs on the set list had me in a cold sweat, born of jump dancing and excessive A/C blasting to keep the fire igniting the crowd to a manageable burn.
The music peeled back to a synth hum of awe that reminded me of the sound the sun would make when it rose…if it made a sound that human ears could hear across the astronomical unit between us.
Into my purple vision, tiny black blotches swam, following a wifi signal. How primitive. I knocked Jacob with my elbow.
The black splotches blanketed the area above the unsuspecting crowd. I swallowed hard. There were…a lot of them, and they were pretty big—for bugs. I’d never attempted anything requiring this much of my hive with this much finesse over such a wide distance.
With a subtle stretch of my hands, I released mine, like letting out a long, slow breath. With a [bind] command, I set my moths atop these other things…these black bugs. Of course I couldn’t hear anything over this distance or the music, but Ifelta million tiny clicks as the bugs joined up.
The beat kicked up again, and the black bugs ignited into a field of pastel fireflies. The crowd cheered and jumped in time, arms raised to catch them.
I kept glancing at Jacob as the fireflies rippled into waves with the call and answer of the melody.
Jacob shrugged a shoulder at me.
Here we go.I selected a section of the mapped blueprint with my left hand and made a [kill] fist.
The little pastel bugs blinked out, and the crowd in that area gave a collective disappointed “Oooh!”
I drummed my fingertips erratically on the balcony’s railing, and the remaining pastel bugs did the same shimmy…off beat and out of sync, like the lights of a confused, tacky Christmas tree.
Up on the stage, a guy was furiously typing at a laptop, almost as fast as my fingers. Trying to figure out what was happening? Poor egalitarian code thief.
The song whomped on, and the crowd was still bopping, but it was less enthusiastic. Their interest had shifted, broken, like they weren’t sure what they should be paying attention to.
I amplified this effect, going after the DJ. I selected his computer, sent a nearly invisible stream of my moths, and with another [kill] fist, shanked half the sound system.
The crowd stopped jumping, a rumble of anger and confusion swept through them.
In the back of my mind, I knew I’d already done enough. Jacob had been avenged. I should burn out whatever computers were up there as a finalfuck you,and then we should slide out with the disgruntled crowd.
But Jacob gave me a shallow nod.
And I wanted to show off for him. I’d been working on this trick, see, to go along with my signature color. And, really, there was no otherplacethat I could do it where people could see than in Vegas, where surreal shit happened all the time. And there was notimelike the present, either. Most of these people were smashed, anyway, right?
I crossed my thumbs, palms flat, and my moths lit into bright hues of indigo, violet, and amethyst and formed a swarm of butterflies that flew out over the heads of the crowds in a wide ribbon of shimmering color. They made for the stage where the DJ and the laptop guy stood and settled on their systems, flapping slowly and innocently…before disintegrating into glitter and infiltrating it. I gave the [kill] command one last time, and the music, lights, and remaining pastel bugs died entirely.
“Fuck yeah,” Jacob said in the moment of silence before a roar of outrage rose from the crowd.
As the emergency lighting kicked in, all that would be left of my moths was carbon dust. No proof of sabotage, just Jacob’s middle finger on a security feed.
We were in the second batch of people in the crowded elevator down—just as the DJ was announcing “technical difficulties.” Yeah, the show was officially over. Nothing was bringing those computers back from the dead.
Jacob took hold of my hand as we mixed into the throng, bursting out the doors of the hotel. He didn’t let go as we rounded the fountain, both of us cackling madly at our victory.
When we were on the inter-hotel monorail arching over the Strip, I realized I wanted to go out for real now. Find another club. Dance hot and close. Or fly. Because I was on a power high and it was sweet.
“You wanna go somewhere?” I shimmied a little at the imaginary music still thrumming in my blood. “Celebrate?”
“I’m a little hungry.” He seemed to stop breathing for a beat, then added, “I was thinking room service.”
“Oh.”Oh.I couldn’t control the smile coming on—his ears were red again—so I looked away. “Yeah, I’m hungry, too. You know how using my…you-know…takes a ton of energy.”
“Yeah, we should get you some food.”
