Some of the squares had even been turned into nature sanctuaries, where folks could wander through patches of woods and watch rockmunks use their razor-sharp talons to carve their nests into boulders, while their smaller chipmunk cousins looked on. All put together, the sanctuary squares were sort of like open-air butterfly houses. Only with teeth and claws instead of pretty wings.
The tourists weren’t the only ones moving through the Midway, however. In keeping with the overall ren-faire atmosphere, men and women wearing knee-high black boots, black pants, colorful shirts and cloaks, and matching cavalier hats topped with feathers stationed themselves throughout the crowd, keeping an eye on everything, their hands resting on the swords belted to their waists. I always thought they looked like extras from some old Three Musketeers movie, but more than one tourist stopped to snap photos of the costumed guards. Bits of gold, silver, and bronze glimmered on the guards’ wrists, denoting which Family each one belonged to, but it was easy to tell who was who, since the guards’ cloaks bore their Family’s color. Black for the Sinclairs, red for the Draconis, purple for the Itos, and so on and so forth.
Each Family had a different piece of the action. The Draconis ran the casinos, the Itos owned the hotels, the Salazars had the restaurants. From what I knew, the Sinclairs ran the banks, along with some other interests, like the nature sanctuaries and bloodiron mines on the mountain. And all of the Families made a sizable chunk of change in protection money by dealing with the wayward monsters who slithered around town in search of an easy tourist meal.
The Families had divvied up the Midway like wedges of a pie, and each Family had guards stationed in its section to deal with any problems. Customers who complained about high prices and sloppy service. Employees who skimmed cash out of the registers. Monsters who wandered a little too close to the crowds. Thieves like me.
I wondered how the Sinclairs were keeping up with everyone else, since Grant said that so many folks had left the Family, but several guards wearing silver hand and sword cuffs patrolled the Sinclair territory as usual. Perhaps things weren’t as bad as Grant had made them out to be.
“Come on,” Devon said. “Let’s head over to the arcade. I want to get this over with.”
He headed toward the north section of the Midway. Felix followed him, with Grant and me flanking them. The guards eyed me suspiciously as I passed, their gazes taking in the sword belted to my waist, since no one except Family guards were supposed to have weapons on the Midway. Please. As if I couldn’t swipe their cuffs right off their wrists if I wanted to. But their faces relaxed when they realized I was walking next to Grant. He smiled, waved, and called out greetings to the guards. He seemed to know almost all of them, including the Draconis.
We reached the arcade entrance, and Devon looked left and right.
“I don’t see her. Do you, Felix?”
Felix shook his head, and the two of them went over to the ticket booth to ask the clerk about whoever Devon was supposed to meet. Grant moved over to talk to some guards from the Volkov Family who were stationed by the arcade entrance, since this was their turf, although he made sure to keep Devon within sight. I leaned against a cardboard sign of a tree troll eating pancakes. Maybe this would be easier money than I’d thought— A girl my own age stopped next to me, scanning the crowd. She was extremely pretty, with shoulder-length black hair, dark brown eyes, and skin that had a faint tan tint to it, like the inside of an almond. Despite her wedge sandals, she was several inches shorter than I was and wore a purple sundress with white polka-dots. A thin silver cuff glinted on her wrist, one that featured a cluster of wisteria flowers. So she was an Ito then.
She glanced at me, and we both did that quick smile strangers do. She started to move past me but stopped and let out a low whistle.
“Nice sword,” she said in an appreciative voice, leaning down to get a closer look. “Is that a black blade? I really like the star scrollwork.”
I wrapped my hand around the hilt, hiding the stars from sight. “Nah. Just a cheap imitation.”
She straightened up and looked me up and down, as if comparing me to my sword. Apparently, I passed her inspection because she smiled at me again.
“Well, maybe you can help me. I’m looking for someone—”
“Poppy ! There you are!” Felix’s voice rang through the air.
She made a face. “And it looks like I’ve found him. One of them, anyway.”
Felix hurried over to where we were standing, threw his arm around Poppy’s waist, and lifted her off the ground, making her laugh.
He put her down and gave her a critical once-over. “Look at you, all dressed up. I like it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t get used to it because it’s not for you, loser. Where’s Devon?”
“Right here.”
Devon joined the three of us. For some reason, he now clutched a white rose in his hand.
“Hi, Poppy,” he said in a somewhat grudging voice, holding the flower out to her. “Are you ready for our date?”
I stared at the rose, which was small, delicate, and pretty, just like Poppy was.
“Date?” I asked, my stomach twisting.
Poppy and Devon stared at each other, their faces carefully neutral.
“Yeah,” Poppy said, taking the rose from him and twirling it around in her hand. “Our parents thought it would be a good idea for us to . . . go out. Before the big dinner next week for all the Families.”
“Because of everything that’s happened recently,” Devon added, his voice even quieter than hers.
My eyes narrowed. He was talking about his dad’s murder and the Ito Family’s supposed part in it. Suddenly, I realized who the girl was—Poppy Ito, daughter of Hiroshi Ito, the head of the Ito Family. So this was some sort of peace tactic then, some way for the Sinclairs and the Itos to show the other Families that they weren’t feuding.
“Some date,” I murmured.
The two of them grimaced.
“Well,” Devon said, holding out his arm. “We might as well go inside.”