“Get to know her before you start a political crisis.” Father laughs, but it’s a dark one.
He pulls a stack of papers from his desk drawer instead of the cabinet. This one must be special. “You are right, though. You should know everything.” He hands the stack to me.
I flip it open to find page upon page of handwritten notes. “What is this?”
“I have someone on the inside, someone undercover, in hopes of learning about and bringing down the Vencrin. And now that also means figuring out whether Moolek has a role in the firelight shortage.” Father points to the notes for emphasis. “This is their report.”
I examine it. The first page marks day one, with the agent’s name, Smoke, written across the top. It looks like Adraa’s handwriting, but then I realize it’s too neat. Adraa’s writing swoops and swirls like a ten-year-old on a skyglider; this person swoops with smaller flourishes like a seventeen-year-old flier. But my guess is the writer is female.
I want to learn, but this is more than textbook material. This is insider information, the secrets of an undercover operation. “What do you want me to do exactly?”
“You asked. You care. Adraa cares too.” Father points at the report again. “Learn what there is to know. If you want to be a part of it I won’t stop you.”
“A part of it?”
He motions toward the papers. “You’ll see. She could use backup.”
At first the notes scramble to explain everything. The entire process of the investigation, the theory, the goal, the beginning, all are laid out in a jumble of details. But within five pages, the important pieces start to float above the garble. I turn a page. Vencrin and their marked attacks on ships on the Belwar coast. I turn another page. Vencrin and their marked hits on the streets of Belwar.
The next few pages explain Bloodlurst.Extremely addictive and pleasurable to the senses on initial use,it says in large print at the top. I had remembered correctly; with recurring use the drug enhances one’s Touch. Another page, more reports of incidents in which an addict burned out or killed someone. I stop at one sentence. In the majority of cases, taking too much Bloodlurst burns out the user…I reread the next word to make sure I’m seeing it correctly.Permanently,it says.
I leaf through more pages. Agent Smoke discovered a connection between the Vencrin and a place called the Underground, a hidden arena for cage casting, with weekly matches. There’s a calendar. The next date circled on it is in two days. The only other item emphasized with the same pugnacity is the name Sims, underlined with three bold strokes. Then there are name after name of cage casters. Next to some areVs. The members proven to be Vencrin, I realize a second later as I scan down the page.
Nightcaster: Rakesh: Black: V
Tsunami: Beckman: Blue
Thunder: Tenson: Yellow: V
Lightning: Kuma: Orange: V
Streak: Amit: Orange
Ax: Anik: Purple: V
Quake: Navin: Green
Mist: Sonna: Blue
I shuffle through a few more pages and a smaller page falls out. I grab it off the floor. It’s another city map, with six points marked by red dots. Next to each dot is writing. I peer closely at a dot.2 V, 30 packs destroyed.
I look up and realize hours have passed. I’ve read twenty-five victim cases and thirty fighter profiles. I rub my eyes, but can’t wipe away the headache behind them. So much was kept from me. I knew my country wasn’t perfect, but I thought it pure and clean compared with Moolek. Nothing like shattered illusions to make you feel both sick and exhausted.
Adraa was doing something, Jaya was doing something, and Agent Smoke was doing something. I hit my desk, and the first red magic orb I ever created falls and rolls under my bed. Over the years it’s lost all resemblance to a flame; now it’s only a wisp of red smoke. If I opened the thing it would puff into nothing. I bend to get it, and when I set it back in line with the other eight orbs, resolve hits me in the chest. I’m no longer a pathetic ghostly spell sheltered in an orb. I am a raja in the nine gods’ eyes.
Now I know what Father meant.
I will be a part of it.
Being undercover, being Jaya Smoke, means I must constantly live in confidence; must wear it like my Touch and let it grow and coat me like a second skin. The persona keeps me safe. But I can’t help but like and admire the woman I become when I’m Jaya. So much so that it seeps into other parts of my life. I curse more in the Underground and thus can’t hold back saying “blood” on a daily occurrence. I’m pretty sure I swore five times in front of Raja Jatin in the carriage and hadn’t even given it a second thought.
I like Jaya so much that I have become my persona, which over these past months has confused me. Have I changed myself forcefully, to the point that I have lost myself? Who was I really before I took on this mission and became a cage caster and then a night stalker? Blood if I can remember, but that person feels weak and alien to me now. These are the thoughts that lurk in my mind when I use black magic, when I paint myself in it so I can’t be seen. As an invisible entity of the night, I sneak into the East Village and hunt for the landmarks that guide me toward the Underground.
I round a corner, still expecting Basu to ambush me. But I shouldn’t worry. He’s gone. Two days ago my father finally read the update. After the interrogation, the truth spells revealed Basu didn’t know he had been selling my firelight to criminals. He’s been banned from selling firelight again, but that’s a whole lot better than time in the Dome.
Basu begged for a guard to protect him until he could leave the city, my dad said. That’s the part that draws shivers down my spine and makes me keep glancing over my shoulder. The Vencrin started cropping up slowly about a year and half ago. From what I’ve learned, most if not all Vencrin members are nothing more than thugs dragged into the drug-dealing game by the lure of power upgrades, money, and protection. But I can’t ignore all the evidence that points to them destroying Mr. Burman, one of the most powerful men I knew. So maybe I am wrong. If Basu is that scared of the Vencrin, should I be as well?
That’s why tonight is so important. It’s taken me months to track down one drug den and stop a handful of drug transactions. And I’m nowhere near finding Mr. Burman’s assailants. If Moolek really has a hand in this mess it could take me months. Months I don’t have. Jaya Smoke’s days are numbered. Thirty-nine days and it’ll be my eighteenth birthday and the royal ceremony. And after my face is plastered all over the country as a rani, entering the streets in the red mask and breaking up drug deals won’t be easy. Without the information I gather as Jaya, I will basically be wandering around alone in search of illegal activity. I have to find new leads on what is happening to my firelight, and soon, before the royal ceremony, before I’m forced to beonlyAdraa Belwar for the rest of my life.
