GENESIS: A RIGHT TO STAND (Book One) • SHADOWHUNTERS

PANDEMONIUM

The wind was bitingly cold—unusual for a New York summer evening, Spencer remarked—and ripped right through her black denim jacket, prompting Spencer to button it up. It wasn't a huge improvement, but it helped a little. Head down, she continued down the street, passing the city's most popular bars and nightclubs. Snatches of dance music flowed from fog-filled doorways, rainbow light flashing invitingly just past their thresholds.

    One such club drew her attention, more so than the others had. A long, slow-moving line of about fifty people snaked from the entrance, those at the back wearing expressions of boredom or impatience. At the front, they were all deeply interested in an interaction between one of the club's bouncers and a blue-haired teenage boy in a shiny red jacket.

    Spencer couldn't say for sure what it was that attracted her to the Pandemonium Club, but the music did seem to be particularly infectious—and the strange symbols on the sign were intriguing. The nightclub appeared to cater to a specific clientele—its prospective patrons were dressed mostly in black leather, accessorised with shining silver spikes protruding from shoulders, boots and belts. Hair was dyed outrageous colours, makeup was dark and heavy, and metal bars were pierced through lips, noses and eyebrows.

    There were, however, two teenagers who did not fit the dress code—a tall brown-haired boy of about sixteen and a girl with bright red hair, presumably the same age. They were clothed in casual street-wear—denim jeans, sneakers, corduroy jackets—and, judging by the boy's posture and body language, he was especially uncomfortable. Despite this, he leaned forward, along with everyone else who was in earshot, and keenly watched the exchange happening at the head of the line.

    The boy with the electric-blue hair appeared to be trying to convince the burly bouncer to let him inside. The bouncer, arms crossed over his huge chest, just shook his head, looking pointedly at the long wooden object the boy held. When he held it up to the bouncer, Spencer saw it was pointed at one end, similar to a stake. The boy pressed down on the stick and bent it nearly in half. It must be made of some sort of foam, Spence guessed, though she could have sworn she glimpsed a flash of silver from within it. Nevertheless, the bouncer stepped aside and let the boy in the red jacket enter.

    As he disappeared through the doorway, he glanced back, his eyes glowing green. Strange, Spencer thought, that she could see them, even from across the street. His gaze landed on the red-haired girl, who had been watching him rather intently, Spencer now noticed. She saw the girl elbow her friend in the ribs before they, too, entered the club.

    A strange tugging sensation in her gut pulled Spencer across the street, dodging the passing cars, to the ire of the numerous cabbies. She ducked quickly behind the bouncers and crossed the threshold, now immersed in the foreign world that was the Pandemonium Club.

* * *

It was warm inside, so Spencer unbuttoned her jacket. She took a moment to adjust to the artificial fog and flashing lights. Spencer wandered amongst the pulsating bodies, intrigued by their 'dancing'—mostly just swaying and shaking their hair seductively. As she wound her way through the crowd, she kept one eye on the red-haired girl and her friend, both of them dancing awkwardly.

    They really didn't fit in, Spencer thought with a wince. Their clothes seemed even more out of place inside the club than they had outside, not that she was much better. Spencer looked down at her own outfit—black work-out leggings, Nike runners, and her black jacket, now open over a white tee shirt. Definitely a style icon, she thought sarcastically.

    Spencer couldn't see the blue-haired boy anywhere near her. She cast her gaze around, searching, searching—there. He seemed to be transfixed on something. Following his eye-line, Spencer saw a girl in an old-fashioned white dress. It was clear that it was she who held his unwavering attention, and it was clear why—the girl, tall, dark-haired and slim, was devastatingly beautiful, and wore the dress, antique though it may be, with such grace and confidence that it did not seem out of place. She was a beacon of light in the shadows, drawing the boy to her. As he moved closer, Spencer glanced back at the red-haired girl, who also watched them. Her friend was saying something to her, but she ignored him.