Hovering Above Chaos

Chapter 1: Sample

Nicholas

It's sick, what they do to her. Every time I see it, my empty stomach revolts, yet I keep coming back for more. Like she's a drug. And, hell, maybe she is.

I glance at the crowd of fellow addicts around me and let my hands sink deep into my pockets. One of my fingers toys with a hole in the seam, though Lissy would kill me if she knew I was pulling up her stitching. Murmurs heighten with excitement. Bodies press against me.

And screw it. I need to fidget right now.

Jaw tight, I shift my gaze to the glass skyscraper ahead, just past the pond before the crowd and me. Five bridge pathways leading to a circle plateau stretch over the water, awarding the centerpiece of the city its infamous title: Web Pond. It's not ironic that's where this little "show" ends. With her trapped in the middle.

It's all brightly lit down here, but she stands at the top of the skyscraper, spotlights making her outfit glitter like the stars do when you wander into the wasteland around the city. Just far enough from the artificial lights to see they ain't got shit on the real thing.

I swallow when the music starts, blaring in my ears, cueing the show.

She darts. Long legs carry her and her miskit—a tiny grey cat little larger than a kitten—to the edge of the building. My lungs soak in air when she plummets. Five flips. Ten. Twenty. I lose count and swallow again. Something bitter stings the back of my throat.

Just before slamming into hard cement, she hovers—thanks to her miskit's ability—and touches down safely. The cat hops to the ground when her arms rise, and she continues with a series of more flips and twists toward a bridge path until she's in the center of the web. Once she looks up, a showman's smile is etched on her blanched face. Her chest heaves.

The crowd erupts into roars, shoving me around with their enthusiasm, but I plant my feet and keep my eyes on her, watching the tremors she desperately fights to hold back. My eyes flick down to her miskit, who followed her. The cat purrs at her ankles, trying to comfort her, and I feel bad for the little thing too. One wrong move and they're both goners.

I yank a hand out of my pocket and rake my fingers through long, oily strands of light brown hair, agitation gnawing at me. The next part of this show really gets me. It always gets me.

"Thank you for coming to see Syretia, everyone!" Approaching her daughter, Lady Berry holds a microphone delicately in her hand while her heels click across one of the opposite bridges over Web Pond. Syretia flinches when her mother's free arm wraps around her shoulders. "Your donations are much appreciated, and, remember, every bit is for a good cause."

Good cause. To hell with that. Lady Berry only has one "cause" in mind, and it's increasing the Berrys' wealth and status. No matter who it hurts. Even if it's her own kid.

Syretia draws my gaze back to her stiff smile and fluttering lashes like she's a damn magnet, and my fists clench. The rest of Lady Berry's speech dies before it reaches me because, for a single moment, the teen's, the stranger's, blue eyes find mine and hold steady.

I see the breath she inhales but doesn't release.

The weariness that makes her whole body sag.

And the cry for help that trembles on her lips.