and duck through the crowd. Tears run down my face. I should never have let Mother take off the restraint. I’m too unpredictable.
An indecipherable shout rings out. For a moment, I think the crowd I’ve been swallowed by has noticed the burning building at the other end of the street. But the people around me face the opposite direction of the fire, toward an illuminated stage where screens hover on each side.
I turn in a circle, trying to figure out which way to go next. Only few people separate me from the stage. Four men in their twenties stand shackled together with their left wrists clamped in heavy red wristlets.
Just like the man in the club.
What was I thinking leaving my friends? Maybe it’s the alcohol, but ever since Ryker whispered to me at the banquet tonight, I’ve felt reckless and I’ve been making stupid decisions.
My alert mind searches for Eamon, or anyone I recognize from Summer Hill. But the truth is, I have no idea how to tell if I’m standing in a crowd of humans or witches. Or the Splinter group.
And that scares me. I need to get back to Kyra. Running off may have kept me from lashing out at her, but she has to be terrified that she’s lost me. It’s not fair to her.
As I begin to move away from the stage, the crowd falls silent. Damn. There’s no way through the throng without drawing attention to myself.
My finger hovers over my wristlet. I could ping Kyra and tell her where I am…but what if it gets picked up by one of Mother’s people?
I groan. There’s no good solution except staying here for the moment and hoping my friends haven’t left.
A fit woman in a skin-tight Enforcer uniform crosses the stage and the temperament of the crowd shifts from excitement to anticipation.
When the woman stops in the middle the stage, the crowd roars to life chanting in manic unison: “Pun-ish them! Pun-ish them!”
The shortest of the four condemned men hangs his head dejectedly while the rest of them show a mixture of fear and panic.
With a satisfied smile, the woman holds up her hands and the chanting turns into a soft mew. The State’s anthem blares around me and everyone snaps to attention, eyes fixed forward until the song’s end.
When it’s over, the people in front of me move so that I can’t see the stage. Whatever is happening, the crowd loves it. I can’t even see the hover screens. A drawback to being short. All around me, people yell, stomp their feet and cheer.
Then the crowd quiets down.
“Dear people of the State,” the Enforcer woman begins. Her words have an Eastern society trill, which I find odd. Why not use our own Enforcers?
I stand on my tiptoes, for a better look. Newscaster cameras buzz over the Enforcer’s head. “These Sensitives before you stand convicted of heinous crimes against the State. Stealing. Vandalizing. Consorting with enemies. Even mind control. They must be punished.”
Yells of “Punish them” rise up again along with a few whistles.
“Li Bai Smythe,” the Enforcer says as another woman pushes the first man forward. “You are accused of using your abilities to steal produce from a public market and are hereby sentenced to a labor crew in the far north for a time no shorter than eight years.”
My hand flies to my mouth. No one can survive that kind of work for that long under those conditions. Not with the constant below freezing temperatures, poor shelter, and lack of quality food. Surely the State knows this. It’s why the Northern Society remains largely uninhabited.
Whistles fill the air again as the atmosphere takes on an almost festival-like feel. As if watching the sentencings of these men is equivalent to watching the performer back inside the club.
I roll my shoulders a little and try to calm the sense of unease growing in me. Knowing that most, if not all Sensitives, are nothing more than petty human criminals, I can’t help be feel disgusted over the whole charade. And yet, I can’t tear myself from the spectacle.
The second and third men are sentenced and hurried off the stage in much of the same way, leaving the final short man alone on the stage. The Enforcer bobbles her head between the tablet in her hand and the man, before motioning to a woman off stage, who runs to her side. The Enforcer points at the tablet in confusion.
It’s strange the way the two women keep checking