microskirt and matching bustier with a satin cape that barely reached her waist. Her over-the-knee boots and token domino mask matched the rest of it, a club costume version of her one-piece field outfit.
“Safire,” Chakra replied, hiding a smile. She might have been showing nearly as much skin as Safire, but Chakra had taste.
Chakra changed her costume more often than I did—always around a Hindu theme—and tonight she wore red, a midriff-baring satin choli and full belted skirts that brushed the tops of her boots. A hooded scarf added mystery and made her a contrasting match for Artemis’ black leather catsuit and hood. Quin wore a black and white, diamond-checkered bodystocking and domino mask, accessorized by a frilly cravat and snappy tricorner hat for the evening. Whenever we all went out together I might as well have switched the chameleon-setting on; I was the invisible one in the group. Tonight I was the invisible one in the room.
And Safire made even Chakra look anorexic with her Junoesque curves. She flashed a smile at our group, then focused on me.
“Astra! I love your new look! Turn for me!” I did and she clapped her hands. “Wonderful!” she enthused, forcing a laugh out of me.
“This is going to be great,” she bubbled. “We haven’t announced the categories yet, so we can model after you girls tonight. Classic, sexy, spooky, and fun!” All the while she shepherded us through the crowd to our table. Our table. The one blazoned with the Sentinels ‘S.’ In gold. She left us there to whirl away back into the crowd.
“Looking good tonight,” Quin yelled over the band, scanning the dance-floor. Tonight Sakura Wind, a Japanese hero-pop band I hadn’t heard before, provided the noise. There were so many packaged hero-pop idols coming out of Japan that new groups had to have serious talent, and the lead singer moved with his own chorus of glowing angel-girls.
“Costume Night always raises the game,” Chakra said. She gave our server her order and kept looking. A smile spread across her face. “And someone’s taking notes.” Following her pointing finger, we spotted Andrew across the room. He sat alone at a table, notebook in hand and drink at his elbow.
Quin laughed, giving us a wink. “Send my drink over there,” she said and dove back into the crowd. Watching her push her way through the throng, Chakra smiled. I seconded her; Quin needed the downtime; our current public-image problem was mostly her headache, and she worked hard at it.
Over dinner Quin had reminded me about Jamal. In her opinion a new sidekick was just what we needed, but now she was stuck trying to find a situation for the poor kid. He could have easily gotten away from his tormentors instead of sticking around to beat the crap out of them once his speed emerged, so he’d been charged with “aggravated self-defense.” He had no family, and the juvie-court judge had agreed to remand him into the Sentinels’ custody only so long as we could find a new foster-situation acceptable to the court—but with Rush now divorced, not a single Sentinel qualified and she’d asked if my mom could come up with something. Otherwise, it was off to the Academy.
I actually had an idea, but I’d have to see first.
Our drinks arrived and I sipped my virgin cooler. Artemis nibbled a tiny tapa, scanning the crowd for her own drink, and her eyes locked onto Hector, an East Side Guardian and one of her occasional “dates.” She whispered an apology before disappearing, which wasn’t good; now that she was famous she didn’t hunt at The Fortress much. I hoped she’d be discreet.
“They’ll be back before the judging,” Chakra said. Looking over my shoulder, she smiled and stood up herself. “Have fun,” she whispered before heading for the bar. Huh?
“May I join you?” a masculine voice said. “Your friend approves.” I spun around.
Yikes, he was yummy. If Shelly’d still been on our neural link I’d have been hearing happy commentary and suggestions. “Konichiwa,” he said, nodding politely with a confident smile. I blinked, grabbed onto my social training, and smiled back.
“Konichiwa. Sit, please. Are you with the band?”
His smile widened. “Their manager,” he said, taking Artemis’ chair. “Do you like them?”
“Hero-pop isn’t my thing,” I replied honestly, “but they don’t suck.” To my surprise he didn’t instantly hand me his card. Instead he held out his hand.
“Yoshi Miyamoto. It is an honor to meet you.”
“It is very nice of you to say so.”