The Initiative (A Sleeping Beauty Remix)

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Two

"We are here. In your cities, in your towns, down the street in your neighborhood.

It is time we rise."

-Found on the back of a receipt discarded on Main Street, Pellora City

"What kind of clothes do you like the Prince in?" Anonymous read the large script on the screen behind her, then laughed, her bright hair swinging as she whirled back around to look at the crowd. "I swear, no one ships this relationship more than you folks."

She sat in one of the black-backed director's chairs on stage. Next to her, Josh Farrest balked, "What about what I like the Prince to wear?"

Anonymous' answering giggle was like delicate wind chimes. I snorted inwardly and shook my head. Of course, her laugh was adorable. "Okay, Josh, you first, then."

Josh flicked his blond hair to the side and scooted forward in his chair. "I'm a fan of the suits, but every once in a while he wears a t-shirt that's just—" he cut himself off as he fanned his face in joking exaggeration. Next to him, Danika Leighton stared blankly at him.

When Josh turned to his mate with a grin, I chuckled. What a cheeky bastard.

"He has these ties he wears," Anonymous answered thoughtfully once the cheers of the crowd died, "that have the Royal crest on them. I try to get him to wear them almost too often—I think he's catching onto me. But other than that it's sweatpants. There's just something so...casual about them."

"Ooo, Chlo, bow chica wow-wow," Josh waggled his eyebrows.

Chlo?

The host chuckled and corralled the panelists back to the questions populating the massive projection screen. From these panels alone, I could see why the Musetunes Festival was a hit so far. The panels gave the crowd a chance to ask questions and take a deeper look into the lives of the artists. It made the crowd feel like they were friends rather than strangers.

I loved every second of it.

Shayla and Marlee would have lived off it.

My gaze scanned the crowd again all the way back to the edges and across towards the food trucks near the west side. This panel was definitely the most attended, the gated area for the crowd almost bursting. And no one had to be a genius to know it had a lot to do with the red-haired, charismatic artist in the center of the stage.

She'd had a panel yesterday as well. The more I listened to her, the more I liked her. She stayed standing until the rest of the artists sat, sparked questions for others to bring them into the conversation, and kept all her comments and jokes relevant.

Adrian Leonger had a pretty cool daughter, and I was weirdly proud of her.

"East panel stage all clear," I said into the black watch on my wrist as I "scratched" behind my ear. Today I was again playing a fan but this time without Wes.

"South side clear," Eva said.

"Center main stage clear," Wes reported.

All was quiet. The sun was out, people were laughing and singing along to the music, the weather was warm but not too humid. A perfect day for a music festival.

"Daniels, we've got a camera out at location 7C. Investigate," Leonger commanded.

Leonger had Wes, Eva, and I on a squad of 6 other agents to patrol inside the crowd as undercover agents. The rest patrolled around the outer edges and along the pathways, fully clad in their dark navy shirts with SECURITY emblazoned on the back. A few more agents and the security at this festival would surpass most of the crowd.

The smell of hot, fried dough mixed with sweat from the crowd filled my nose. The sour smell of sweat was nasty, but the fried dough made my mouth water.

"Camera 5B has disconnected," another voice said over comms.

My gut tightened. It could just be a power outage.

Right?

"Camera 2F disconnected."

"Cameras 4D and 3C disconnected."

My gaze darted around the area. I pushed through the crowd, heading towards the side stage. Not good. My senses fired all alarms.

I waved my VIP pass in front of the security guard who was quick to let me through. The staff and stage crews didn't know, but Leonger had kept all the normal security aware of the VIP passes and what they actually meant—an agent.

I hurried over to the main director--his headphones on one ear and the heavy schedule papers rolled in one hand.

"Shut it down," I demanded, cutting him off mid-conversation with another crew member.

He gave me a look and laughed, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Shut it down," I commanded, yelling to be heard over the loudspeakers. "Get the artists off the stage right now."

"Who do you think you are? I'm not going to pull the artists—"

The speakers whirled and buzzed, then fell silent. The crowd chittered as the music cut and the screens went black.

Shit.

Security immediately kicked into action, gathering the stage crew and barking orders. The crowd gave no reaction other than mild surprise. "Looks like a minor power outage, folks," the host yelled, though only the first row heard him. "We'll be back in a moment."

I wanted to believe that. I really did. And maybe it was Eva's electric affinity currently flowing through my own veins, but something screamed at me that this was not a simple power outage.

I stormed up the steps to the side stage and scrutinized the crowd.

"Lewis," Leonger barked in my ear, "report."

"Outage at east panel stage," I said.

"Outage at south quadrant," Eva reported.

"Center stage completely out," Wes confirmed.

"Secure all artists."

Security immediately lept at the Commander's order, moving to the side stage. The stage director had a brief conversation with the host who frowned, then pasted on a bright grin as someone passed him a megaphone. "We're going to have a brief intermission while we get this electrical issue sorted out."

The artists filed down off the stage only to be packed tight among security. "What's going on?" Josh Farrest questioned.

"Any movement?" Wes asked in my ear.

"Crowd is confused, but nothing crazy at the east stage."

"West side all clear," another agent, Andrews, stated.

Not right, not right, not right.

"I've got movement on the South side," Eva declared. "The crowd is getting antsy."

Which was the last thing we wanted. If one person began freaking out, like a spark, it could onsite a full-on wildfire panic.

"Shut the gates down," Leonger ordered. "No re-entry."

"Copy, Sir."

Security ushered the artists into the crew's trailer just behind the stage equipment. It was a good location and their best spot to be right now. I didn't like the idea of anyone of them being out in the open right now.

The director got in my face, "What is the meaning of—"

All the hairs on my arms stood on end and I whirled towards the stage.

The sound system reverbed, the harsh, mechanical screech sending everyone to cover their ears. I yanked out my comms device as it sent stabbing shrieks directly into my skull and clutched my ear. Shit, that fucking hurt.

Then I launched into motion, storming the steps to the stage only to see the main screen turn a deep, vibrant red. And then, slowly fading into view, a black circle, it's center streaked through.

The Circle.