What ?
There is a crowd gathered close to the booth now.
The girl is spasming.
Oh, my God, I say, fumbling for the phone I don’t have. We have to call someonewe have to get help
Even if she was a bitch earlier, even if she’s some evil villain, it’s not right just letting her have a seizure. She clearly needs help
But Bastian’s grip is suddenly tightunyieldingon my wrist.
Do you believe in magic ? he breathes.
There is powder on the table.
A trail of crystal blue.
It’s barely a smudge on the edge. I almost miss it. But this has to be it. This has to be what everyone has been talking about. The Wyvern.
And whoever this girl is . . . I think someone force-fed it to her.
We must have gotten it wrong. There is a new batch being delivered, Maiko said. But we thought that meant there was a lab, a team of scientists . . .
A new batch.
They must have ordered it to the club.
We have to get help ! I say frantically, trying to tug my hand away. But Bastian doesn’t let go. The warm skin of his jaw lingers over my neck, his lips touching my throat.
Magic, he says.
No ! I say, trying to shove him away. It’s the Wyvern
At thatWyvernhe stiffens.
Pulling back.
How do you know that word. It is not a question. It is a demand, and it is dangerous.
I try to wrench away from his grip, but it is impossible. He is too strong, too cold, and the way he is looking at me, like I said something I shouldn’t have said, like I know something I shouldn’t have known . . .
Then I hear the shattering of glass.
It’s magic, Bastian says.
I can’t tear my eyes away.
There is blood leaking from the girl’s nose. Smearing her upper lip. There is broken glass sprinkled between her fingers, and I hear the sound of something else breakingbut it isn’t the cup.
Her body cracks at unnatural angles. Her neck snapping to the side.
I can’t bring myself to speak. To breathe.
It’s already too late.
That, Bastian says, is Pierce Nakamura. She was a model on every runway you can think of. But she was also an enemy. She works for the Cais, you see, and her showing up tonight . . . well, that was a mistake.
This is what they do their enemies, I think, as Pierce arches her back.
This is the transition, Bastian tells me, in a low, seductive voice. All it took was a trace of Magic in her cup. I wonder what she’ll become . . .
This is going to kill her, I hiss.
I will not be able to do anything but watch.
With a final, desperate try, I yank myself out of Bastian’s hold. Rushing into the booth, crawling over the velvet seats until I am close enough to Pierce that I can hear her heavy breathing, that I can see the jutting shards of her bones through the skin.
And I know it’s useless. I know there is no way she can hear me. With all this music and shouting and cheering, I don’t even know why I try. I scream, Veah !
She said she would be listening.
It’s worth a shot.
Quickly, I move towards the girl, trying to do anything, to help
But she collapses the moment I touch her.
Oh, my God, I say. She’s dead.
Bastian, from across the table of the booth, only smiles.
Kill her ! someone in the crowd shouts.
But she’s already
I turn around. Too late, I realize he is not talking to me.
I was wrong. Pierce isn’t dead.
She lunges for me, madness glazing her eyes, that once-beautiful face now salivating with bloodlust.
I scramble out of the booth, right into Bastian’s arms.
Stay there, he orders Pierce, and she does.
What’s happening ? I say. Too shrill.
There are only a handful of people who know this drug as the Wyvern, Bastian says. His voice is a caress. On the street, we call it Magic. Magicbecause, like the elements, it can go one of four ways.
Four ways ?
The first, Bastian breathes, is death. There is a one-in-four chance it will kill you instantly.
From the crowd, someone throws a knife onto the table. It slides towards Pierce. I hear a voice roar, Cut a lock of your hair !
Pierce grabs the knife. With a shaking hand, she shears off a lock of hair.
The second, Bastian continues, is the hallucinogenic effect. It will paralyze you. Your dreams will come to life around you, and you will be helpless.
Somewhere in the back of the club, a voice yells, Take off your shirt and get up on that table !
A whistle. Give us a show, baby !
Pierce stands up on the table and undoes her leather jacket. Her shirt puddles on the booth seat. In her bra, she circles the edges of the table with a model’s stride, swaying her hips.
To anyone else, it might be hot. Seductive.
But I can’t look away from her eyes, and she is terrified.
The third, Bastian says, is a state of adrenaline, rushing into your bloodstream. Giving you strength and speed you never dreamed of. Like superpowers. It’s where the name Magic comes from.
So death, hallucinations, and adrenaline. I hesitate. What’s the fourth ?