“I thought I was supposed to be able to relax when I wasn’t in the bottom three,” muttered Malena, and stalked off toward the revels.

“Come on,” I said to Pax.

No one came to ask us where we were going or why we weren’t coming to the party as we made our way upstairs. We’d pay for that in the morning, when the main breakfast conversation was about whether or not we’d hooked up. That was fine: we could weather a few rumors more easily than we could weather Pax having an incident and eating half the dancers.

He made a beeline for the fridge once we reached the apartment. I kept going, making my way back to the bedroom I shared with Lyra. We both had laptops on our nightstands. Mine had a pink shell, and was covered in sparkly stickers. I ignored it as I dropped to my knees next to my bed, reached under the mattress, and pulled out a sleek, steel-colored notebook computer. It wasn’t as big or as powerful as a full-sized laptop. I couldn’t use it to manipulate graphics or play games. But it was small, it was fast, and best of all, it was equipped with its own wireless hotspot, thanks to the tireless efforts of my cousin Artie.

Pax was still rattling around in the kitchen when I returned. I sat on the living room floor, balancing the notebook on my crossed ankles, and activated the wireless. It would use the local cellular signals to boost itself, allowing me to get messages out without Adrian’s network IT people seeing them. That was important. Somehow, I didn’t think transmitting a bunch of bloody corpses over the Crier Inc. network connection would have been good for my career.

My lifestyle has equipped me with a variety of interesting skills and coping mechanisms. As it turns out, knowing how to word the “Hey, Dad, found some unexpected corpses in the basement of my dance show, can you check them” email was not one of those skills. I finally wrote a quick line warning him about gory contents and asking whether he could tell me anything about the runes cut into the bodies. Dad would be able to take it from there.

He took it faster than expected. My phone rang only a few seconds after I hit “send.” The caller ID showed unknown number. I answered.

“Hello?”

“Where did you find those bodies?”

“Hi, Dad.” Just hearing his voice was enough to relax me. He would know what to do next. He always did. “In the basement of the theater. Those are the two contestants who got eliminated tonight.”

“You need to get out of there.”

He always knew what to do, and I always refused to do it. “Why?”

“Because those runes are intended to summon a snake god, and if the snake cultists are carving them into dead people, I’d rather they not decide to carve them into you.”

I leaned back until my shoulders rested against the arm of the couch. “See, and that’s why I can’t leave. I don’t think we can convince Adrian to shut down the show—officially, the bodies haven’t been found yet. Maybe when they are, he’ll decide this is too dangerous, but I think he’s just going to turn it into a bid for better ratings. Dancing for our fallen comrades and all that. Right now, I’m the only one here who could potentially make things better.”

“I don’t like the thought of you out there without backup. Your mother and I—”

“Are so not coming out here,” I interrupted. “You have work to do, and there’s nowhere for you to crash. Besides, I have backup. Dominic is here. The local cryptids include a chupacabra, an Ukupani, and a whole Nest of dragons that really wants to stay on my good side. I’ll be fine.”

“That isn’t enough,” he said. “These runes aren’t amateur work, like the ones you found in the sewer. Someone has been working for a long time to bring their god to this plane of existence.”

“Do you even know which god?” Pax stuck his head out of the kitchen, mouth bloody and eyes wide. I covered the receiver with one hand and mouthed “snake god” exaggeratedly at him. He looked blank, shrugged, and withdrew back into the kitchen. I uncovered the receiver. “Because there are a lot of snake gods out there. Maybe they’re summoning Uncle Naga, and we can have a fun chat about how dance proves that bipeds have too much nervous energy. Again.”

(Uncle Naga was a very nice, well, naga from a parallel dimension. His real name was unpronounceable by humans. He’d originally been summoned by a snake cult to eat my grandmother when she was a kid. Being a respectable professor of extra-dimensional studies who didn’t believe in eating people he could have conversations with, he’d declined and has been a friend of the family ever since. And this is why we don’t invite strangers over for Thanksgiving.)