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"Thank you so much, you guys. I was stuck. They cornered me and started talking trash about Mag. I stood up for myself and for him, I think."
"Good job. Don't worry about them. They're just jealous," Stella said with her arm over my shoulders. "Let's get back to having fun."
"Did you make that girl a pawn?" I asked Sylvie.
She smirked and wiped her hands like she was brushing off dirt. "She deserved it."
We laughed as the music swelled. I looked for Mag but didn't see him over all the tall hats and oversized masks. The crowd began to move like one organism as everyone started to dance. I tried to fit in, but I kept bumping into people. I was separated from my friends by a man in a painted mask who grabbed my hands and twirled me in a circle. Other drunk people in ornate costumes weaved around me, and I felt like I was lost in a fever dream.
Something pulled at my shoulder. I turned to see a man wearing a mask with blue feathers tugging the strap of the small purse Sylvie had given me. My arm came up as he forced it over my head. He started running away.
"Hey!" I couldn't believe he took my bag. It didn't have much in it except a few doubloons and some beads, but the crowd was in a frenzy for those items. They were the currency of the culture.
A woman's scream ripped through the plaza, and my skin prickled like it did right before an earthquake. Then I heard it. The sound of crunching fists hitting flesh and the accompanying grunting. Growing up in LA, I'd heard the sound of a fight breaking out more than once. Sure enough, in the middle of the street, a bunch of men were throwing punches.
I tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. I was pushed to the side and fell to the ground on the curb besidea trash can. From my protected spot, I watched the fight spread and morph from the center outward. The music blared over it all, and people were cheering.
My heart raced. We were having so much fun and everything just erupted into chaos. I didn't recognize anyone among all the faces around me. I felt so alone.Pop-pop-pop-pop. Those gunshots. Were they real or not? I covered my head. I saw Tommy with a gun aimed at my parents. "Please, please, please." I felt tears threatening but forced them back.
No, no, no. This was not real. I was just disoriented. I knew Mag was close by somewhere. I wasn't with Tommy and my dead parents, and I had to stay in control.
I looked up and my eyes locked on Mag pushing through the unruly crowd, his face frantic as he scanned the scene. He made eye contact with me, saw that I was okay, and quickly ushered Sylvie and Julian away from a scuffle that had broken out behind him.
Among all the disturbance, the Knight Security guys seemed calmer than everyone else. They weren't participating in fights but acted like pillars in the dark, keeping the melee under control.
Except Steel. Steel's face was full of rage as he pushed a guy in the chest. "You touch my wife? You touched mywife?"
Oh boy. His eyes were crazy, and spittle flew out of his mouth as he yelled at the man who had apparently touched Brandy. The guy stupidly took a fighting stance and threw a punch.
Steel flattened the guy with one strike to his jaw. Before Steel could jump on him, Mag wrapped his arms around Steel and wrestled him away.
As this was happening, the blue-winged mask guy who stole my purse ran right in front of me. Rage exploded in my gut like a fire. Why was I always the one cowering and being scared? I didn't want to be a helpless victim anymore. I could be brave like Magnum.
So I jumped up and chased the blue-winged thief. Without thinking it through, I let out a Viking warrior cry and grabbed the strap of my purse. It barely stopped his momentum, and he pulled back on it, yanking it out of my hand. The doubloons tumbled to the ground. "Hey!"
The guy glanced at the ground and considered picking up the loot, but when he looked up, he came face to face with the raging bull that was Magnum Beaumont.
I swear I saw the thief's soul leave his body as he stared at Mag's broad, tattooed chest and shoulders covered by a blue cape. He looked like a New Orleans style superhero.
Mag tugged the purse out of his hand and calmly said, "Get."
The guy dropped the bag and turned to run.
Mag watched him disappear and then his furious eyes were on me. "Were you chasing that guy?"
"He took my purse." I had to yell over the noise, and it came out a lot more screechy than I intended. I was angry but not at Mag.
"Which is full of crap," he said in a condescending tone.
Okay, maybe I was angry at Mag. "It's not crap. It's valuable."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't fall for that shit. Nothing is as it seems, especially at Mardi Gras. The throws are worth nothing. They line the streets in the morning and get sweptaway with all the trash." He pointed down at the doubloons that had spilled on the street with the cigarette butts and empty cups.
I was about to argue that his sister had special ordered them, but he took my hand and started walking fast through the crowd. We passed by Sylvie and Julian, who were now having fun again and dancing in the street. He gave them a nod and removed his cape and crown. He clenched them in his fist with the purse as he exchanged some quick words with Steel and Kane, who were also calm now and standing around. I didn't see Helix or the rest of the group anywhere. There were several head tilts and scanning eyes before Mag pulled on my hand again.
He led us away from the floats and down a dimly lit side alley with a worn brick path. I felt a thrill of excitement at being in the true heart of New Orleans, not a touristy area, but a dark alley behind the scenes. This was exactly what I wanted, to see parts of the world I'd only dreamed of before.
"You hurt?" he asked me curtly.
