“When you’re in Artistry, you can be anyone you want to be,” she says, and while some people walk through her, most stop and try to snap holo-captures with her image. “You’re entering the land where the art you love is created. Want to drop by the set of your favorite holo-show and be an extra for a scene or two? Want to bid on an exclusive invitation to dine with the cast? Want the chance to purchase new merchandise far before it’s available to the rest of the Zodiac? If this sounds like Empyrean to you, then you’ll want to enter through the Meet the Stars gate.” Winking, she adds, “I’ll see you there.”
Her hologram wends past me in the crowd, but I can still hear her because her voice is amplified to carry. “Or perhaps you’d rather be the star of your own adventure. Do you often fantasize about saving the universe? Have you always longed to solve a crime? Would you relish the chance to safely channel your darker impulses by stepping into a villain’s shoes? Then enter through the Be the Star gate and purchase the Storyline that’s right for you!”
I finally see where the towering wall that surrounds this Pride breaks for a series of gates. Friend is the smallest of them; it’s closed and locked and there’s no official nearby.
A large holographic sign says: ARTISTRY LAW STATES THAT VISITORS MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A LEONINE AT ALL TIMES, OR YOU RISK ARREST. PLEASE WAIT HERE UNTIL YOUR NAME IS CALLED.
The gate suddenly opens, and a Lionheart peeks her head out. “Thumb, please.”
I press my finger to the reader she holds out, and a moment later my name appears.
The opening widens, and the Leonine Zodai holds the door for me. I feel Ophiuchus move ahead, and I think he must brush her as he goes by because she looks around like she felt something.
I hurry through and follow her down a long, dark tunnel that cuts through the extra-thick black wall that encloses Artistry. This Pride certainly takes its privacy seriously.
When we get to the other side, we’re on what looks like a fake street. The storefronts are too squat and bright, and the holographic graffiti on the walls is too evenly spaced. This must be an old filming set they don’t use anymore.
A troop of Zodai is standing guard nearby, and a guy with a bushy brown mane and pierced eyebrows waits among them. Traxon is wearing the white outfit he wore when I first met him on Taurus, when he spoke on a panel with other members of 13.
“We release you into Traxon Harwing’s custody,” says the Lionheart who let me in, scrutinizing me curiously through rainbow-colored eyelashes. “Enjoy your stay, and we wish you a happy ending!”
As soon as I trade the hand touch with Traxon, his feet start moving and his mouth starts running. “Rho, always exciting to see you! I’m glad you decided to do the honorable thing and hold up your end of our bargain, but you could have given me more of a head’s up.” His feet work at the speed of his words, and I hurry to keep up with him. “I had a speaking engagement for 13 today that I had to walk out on—”
“I’m not here for—”
“But it doesn’t matter because this interview will be worth it! Obviously, I would have much rather done this in my studio on the Truth Pride, but at least Artistry is crawling with production hands. We’ve managed to improvise a decent setup—but here, you can see for yourself!”
Beaming, he pulls open the door to one of the abandoned storefronts, and we step into a small, dark space. Only a couple of chairs and camera equipment have been set up, and there’s two Leonines dressing the set with flowers and water glasses.
“Okay, so we should be ready to go in a few minutes, but in the meantime, maybe you can run me through the main talking points—”
“Trax, stop,” I say, stepping up to him so he’ll see me and not a headline. “I’m here for something else.”
He furrows his decorated brow. “We had a deal. I kept up my end, I told you who was funding the Tomorrow Party, and you—”
“Look, I’ll give you an exclusive. I will. Just not now, okay? First I really need your help.”
“No,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “We do the interview first, and then I help you.”
I clench my jaw and try not to snap. “Can we talk in private?”
He wordlessly turns to his two production hands, who’ve stopped working to watch our argument, and they step outside.
“I need you to take me to the Tomorrow Party,” I say once we’re alone. “They’re hiding somewhere on this Pride.”
My request seems to stump Traxon, and he looks more confused than upset. “What makes you think I can find them?”
“Because you’re an incredible investigator.”
Rather than appease him, the compliment seems to inflate his ego, and his chest swells with pride. “Well I’m not interested unless you do this interview. You and your Aquarian friend were so pleased with yourselves when you offered me an ultimatum last time we met, remember? Now I’m offering you one: If you want my help, do my interview.”
“There are more important things going on!” I shout.
“Great!” he roars. “Let’s hear about them!”
“You’re being a child—”
Traxon’s eyes suddenly shift away from me, and the dark tan drains from his skin until he looks as pale as an Aquarian. His mouth opens and closes, like he’s finally run out of words, and I know better than to believe I could have that effect on him.
I wheel around and see that Ophiuchus has deactivated his collar.
20
IN HIS TOO-SMALL UNIFORM, WITH his too-wide eyes and his too-big clawed feet, the Thirteenth Guardian looks too large for this world.
Tears streak down Traxon’s cheeks, and he bends into a low bow that goes on for an uncomfortably long time. When he straightens, he says, “Your holiness, I—”
“Traxon, we need to go now,” I say, my hands curling with impatience. “There’s no time for this!”
But he still isn’t looking at me, nor does he appear to be listening. “Your holiness, I want to apologize on behalf of the Zodiac for what’s happened to you and your House,” he murmurs, hanging his head.
“Thank you,” rumbles Ophiuchus, his booming voice shaking the walls of the small space. Then he turns to me and says, “He will get us where we need to go.”
“Stellar. Then let’s move,” I command. “You should reactivate your collar—”
“No need,” says Trax, looking away from Ophiuchus long enough to remember my presence. “Everyone’s always playing a character here—people will just assume you have killer costumes.”
When we’re outside, Traxon dismisses the two production hands, and he reaches out to his sources to inquire about the Party. Ophiuchus and I hang around a few moments while Trax consults his Lighter, and then he says, “This way.”
“Have you found the Party?” I ask as we hurry down the street.
Traxon clings so close to Ophiuchus that he reminds me of the tiny fish that hitch rides with crab-sharks. “I have a friend who lives nearby. Whatever’s going on, he’ll know.”
Soon we arrive at a busy shopping district filled with restaurants and stores and theaters and street performers. More holograms of Zodiac celebrities float through the crowd offering additional services.
“The present is so fleeting!” I hear one of them say. “Don’t let your Storyline end when your vacation does—relive the experience again and again and again by purchasing the film!”