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promised!”
    He’s no longer in my head. He must need to look into my eyes in order to do it.
    I was exhausted, but horror helped me keep my pace.
    I’m cool as long as I don’t run out of rooftops.
    Ahead of me, hundreds of tall colorful buildings extended up from the city’s foundation. The city of Santeria was divided into four districts. Each was named after a popular Santeria god or goddess and themed in that god’s colors, powers, and favorite things. I raced on Yemaya’s azure and cobalt buildings, so blue they mimicked the ocean that the goddess ruled. The moon’s light bathed the caged city and helped me figure out which direction I needed to hop to. I frantically searched for orange buildings that resembled Shango the god of fire.
    Yes .
    On my far right, a glass tower stood, dyed like the color of a carrot. 
    The Enchanted Works plant.
    I headed that way. Relief surged inside me. Haven was near the plant. Cars honked at each other and streetlights blurred below as I increased my pace and prayed I wouldn’t pass out. Yemaya’s high-end restaurants and exclusive condos gave way to Shango’s slumlord paradise and infamous one-hour hotels.
    A half an hour later, the five rooftops of Haven silhouetted against the moonlight. Fire torches bordered the roofs. The younger street kids slept together on the roof closest to me covered in blankets and huddled next to each other. Drying sheets and clothes hung on wires connected to each building and dripped water down on the hustlers and prostitutes that strolled below. A band on the center roof slammed their drums, shook bells, and strummed guitars.
    The leader sang, “The reaping is coming today!”
    Teenage bodies either swayed in a trance or danced around like their lives depended on it.
    The party’s crowd sang back, “The reaping is coming today!”
    Some of the older kids near my age prowled the ledge of their assigned buildings. Their hands clasped on to metal tubes of acid. No one climbed a building or hopped a roof in Haven without our permission. Last year, habbies tried to climb up and had acid poured down on them.
    The bandleader sang, “Lock your doors. Bar your windows.”
    Everyone yelled back, “The reaping is coming today!”
    The five building owners surrendered their top floors to us. Many thought Wiz spelled them into the agreement, but only I knew that Wiz didn’t have that power. Instead, we paid a rental fee to use the top floors’ rooms and rooftops—a fee that mainly Wiz and I took care of during our jobs.
    “And we’ll steal, until we’re fed. And we’ll kill, until you’re dead.”
    The kids in the crowd yelled back, “Lock your doors. Bar your windows. The reaping is coming today!”
    S avory smoke hit my nostrils. My stomach growled. I clanked my brick-climbers hard to get the Alpha Omega tribe’s attention. Tribes were pretty much like regular street gangs, but us cage punks called them tribes to give us all a sense of family.
    “Who are you?” A kid flashed a light my way.
    “Cameo.”
    “What do you want?”
    Goodness gracious.
    “To come to your roof of course.”
    “Lean forward a little.”
    I did.
    Another picked up a hose and sprayed me with dirty water. It splashed onto me and irritated my scales. Everyone recognized me due to my scales, but it was better for people to know for sure who was coming onto their roofs. Any person could buy a charm that concealed their identity. A natural element like dirt shredded the charm away and revealed the person’s true form, which was why I dripped of muddy water. The kid sprayed me again and giggled.
    “Really?” I wiped the water off my face. “Spray me again and I’m coming for you.”
    “Come on over!” a bald headed girl with a light voice yelled. Most girls had haircuts like guys to blend in and not bring too much attraction to the fact that they were female. Lots of older men prowled the streets and lurked in shadows, hoping a young homeless girl would