As they sat on the tram, Naomi crossed her arms and threw him accusatory stares. "How many secret hideaways in Legacy do you have, anyway?"
"That's none of your business."
"Since I'm your guard, I think I should know about your possible exit strategies."
"Fine. There's one in my room. Another on the first floor. Across from the infirmary, the hallway with all the sculptures of past deans."
"Okay. And why is this concert important to you?" Naomi asked.
"It just is."
"So you can 'escape'? You can be Max again and risk all our lives? AGAIN."
"I didn't ask you to come." Malcolm narrowed his eyes.
"How could I not? It's my job!"
Their bickering came to a halt as Roland cleared his throat.
"This is our stop," he said, eyeing them uneasily.
Naomi stayed close on the prince's heels as they came out on a street in a sketchy part of town. It was littered with tattoo parlors and rowdy bars. The air held the musty odor of too much cigarette smoke, old beer, and (probably) excrement left behind by drunken patrons.
She hated this already.
"Where are we?" She squinted, trying to spot a street sign.
"Anarchy Alley," Lark piped up. Catching Naomi's disapproving look, she shrugged. "Hey, I didn't pick the name."
Instead of complaining further, Naomi kept her attention focused on Malcolm and her surroundings. They walked past several seedy establishments until they turned a corner and came upon what looked like a vacant warehouse. However, the thumping beats and noise from inside signaled it was anything but empty.
It was far too easy to get through the front door. No identification was needed, and to her chagrin, they strolled right in. The chaotic sounds intensified upon closer range, and across from the large crowd and stage, a bar took up the back wall. Alcohol and pumped-up music fanatics didn't seem like a good idea, but again, she had no control over it. In the shadowy interior, flickering lights lit up some scenes while leaving other sinister corners yet to be discovered. It all added to Naomi's growing discontent.
What she was determined to control was Malcolm's beeline for that caged-off area—one where way too many people were jumping around like they'd lost their minds.
"Where are you going?"
"Thrash ditch!" Roland whooped in response, raising his hands in the air.
"Thrash ditch? More like pit of hell." Naomi grabbed onto Malcolm's arm. "I can't let you go in there."
"If you want to 'protect' me, I suggest you come. Or can you not handle it?" Malcolm wrestled out of her grip and started through the crowd.
"We can do it too. You've got me, which means we've got this," Lark yelled and guided Naomi through the flailing bodies, keeping Malcolm in sight. As they entered the "ditch," she almost lost him but retained her equilibrium by grabbing onto the back of his shirt.
"You're going to want to drop that leash," Malcolm shouted at her over the chaos. Shaking out of her grip, he began to dance or...whatever this was.
As Naomi soaked in the scene, she wanted to like it. But the crowd was scarily worked up and the body heat made everything and everyone hot and sweaty. On top of that, the so-called "music" was horrific. It mostly consisted of loud riffs, shrill beats, and of course, griffons screaming at the top of their lungs. The whole point of sonic music was for the listeners to get lost in the sound of griffons using their battle cries. The sub-genre was full of lyrics that literally made your body pound with pain.
Taking in the intense vibrations, Naomi couldn't see how anyone could enjoy this. Especially an elitist prince and a petite, unofficial princess like Lark. Both of them seemed to be having the time of their lives.
It was best to try and fit in. Naomi swayed along, getting banged in the side several times by intrusive elbows. She refused to "head-bang," however. A neck brace and throbbing headache were things she didn't want to cope with later.
Naomi's ears received a wonderful interlude as the bands changed, and the next act flowed onto the stage. Her eyes widened when she saw who the lead singer was. Soraya, flashing a black miniskirt and studded collar necklace, leaped onto the stage.
"Wait, isn't that Quinn's friend?" Lark asked.
"Soraya? Yeah, I think it is," Naomi said, baffled.
"I didn't know she was in a band. I like her five times more now," Lark said as she continued to jump up and down.
Even Naomi had to admit her admiration as Soraya and her band started their act. Between all the high-pitched screaming of the last band, Soraya's voice was slightly raspier yet still passionate, filling the room with musical power. Naomi, at last, began to get swept up in the excitement.
"Above all else, living for eternity," Soraya sang. At her words, the room suddenly went dark, replaced by flashing, frenzied strobe lights. Naomi assumed this was all part of the act—until the amp near Malcolm went berserk, exploding into a fiery death trap. Diving to reach him, Naomi tried to protect him from the sizzling sparks, but she was too late.
Malcolm was lying on the ground, holding a burned hand up to his throbbing ears.
Everything after that flew by in frantic chaos. People began running to escape the damage, and the security guards battled for control. Once they were able to regain some semblance of order, the injured were treated by several medics. Naomi lingered, anxious to discover the scope of Malcolm's injury.
"How is he?" She prodded at the medic again as he wrapped up Malcolm's hand.
"He'll live. It's a tough burn, but it'll heal. No hearing damage or anything else." The medic tried to calm her down before winking at Malcolm.
"You're lucky. Your girlfriend cares about you."
"Do we know what caused it?" Naomi chose to ignore the medic's miscalculation of their relationship.
"I heard someone hit the amp with a throwing star. It was a pretty nice one. Collis material, blue gemstones on it. Why they wasted one screwing up the equipment is beyond me," he went on, finishing his work on Malcolm's hand.
His words distracted Naomi from noticing the cleanup. Collis material. Blue gemstones. That sounded exactly like the one her father had made several weeks ago. But it couldn't be...
She shook off the coincidence as the medic left. Forget theorizing. She had some chastising to do. Naomi scowled at Malcolm, injured hand, regardless.
"See?" she insisted. "I told you this wouldn't end well."
"Give it a rest, Mom," Roland groaned.
When Naomi cast him a glare, her eyes burning red, he shut up.
"Roland, Lark, leave us alone for a minute," Naomi demanded. Malcolm didn't even put up a fight at her command.
She studied his hand morosely. Looks like she sucked at her job. How was she going to explain this mishap to Figgis and Sam?
"Why, Malcolm? Why were you so intent on coming here?"
"I don't know. I wanted to get out and celebrate."
"Celebrate what?"
"Doing well in the Trials, and my dad being proud of me..." Malcolm touched the bandage, flinching at the pain. His new badge symbolizing his celebration.
Naomi held back a frustrated scream.
"If you want to celebrate, you buy a piece of cake. Not go out and nearly get yourself killed over some hunky sonic music."
"Heavy sonic."
"Do you think I give a damn?" Naomi yelled, unable to hold back anymore. "You scared me tonight. How am I supposed to do my job if you keep running off to do whatever you want?"
"That's all you care about? Your job?" Malcolm observed her steadily. His gaze sent a flicker of...something...through her stomach.
"I care about you not ending up dead. How about that?"
"Fair enough." Malcolm gave her a weak smile.
"Come on, let's go home."
He didn't argue with her, and they took a quiet tram ride back to the school.
Regardless of their safe return, Naomi couldn't get over the dangerous and suspicious elements of their adventure. She couldn't get the song's lyrics out of her mind. How they had been spoken right as the amp went off. And the weapon that was used. It was just like the one made in her father's shop. The whole situation felt unsettling, but she couldn't explain why. What was the correlation? Why was it bothering her?
After the long night, Naomi decided to try to put her worries to rest for a while. She would take Malcolm home, get some rest herself, and start anew tomorrow. Whether or not she uncovered any more answers was yet to be determined.
*** Not heavy sonic music, but I do think this would be fun to "thrash" to.
What are your theories on what happened at the concert? 🤔