The rest of the Claws landed.
A harp lay on its side nearby, strings still humming.
And then I saw him.
Coming down the center aisle.
My brother.
Akiro.
He was moving fast. His men flanked him on both sides. Twenty of them. Maybe more. All armed and with fox brands on their necks.
He looked up at me, and even from this distance, I could see the smile on his face.
The new puppet.
He thought he was going to win.
In his hands, he held a kusarigama. A chain and sickle. The blade gleamed under the theater lights.
Curved and wicked-sharp.
The chain was maybe ten feet long with a weighted ball at the end.
He spun it once.
The weighted ball smashed into the arm of a chair. Velvet ripped. Wood splintered.
"Kenji!" Akiro called out, and his voice was light and playful. "Welcome, Brother. Come give me a hug."
I pulled the trigger.
The bullet tore forward.
The fire followed.
A column of flame roared down the center aisle, racing over velvet and wood. Seats ignited in a line of orange fury. Heat blasted outward.
Gold leaf blistered along the balcony rails.
Smoke climbed toward the chandelier.
Three of Akiro's men were too slow. The fire hit them chest-height, and they went up screaming.
Flailing.
Rolling across the floor.
The audience devolved into feral chaos. A woman in pearls clawed at a man's face to get past him.
The mass surged toward the exits.
Akiro dodged left. He was already moving toward the far wall. Toward the staircase that led up to the performance boxes.
He's running.
"Hiro! Reo! Clear the floor!" I vaulted out of the orchestra pit, shoulders straining as I hauled myself up in one violent motion.
