Prince Haydn reacts much faster than I do. He flings aside the beige curtains gently swaying on the far side of the room to reveal an open window.

"He must have kicked it open with his feet," Prince Haydn says.

"But the glass isn't broken," I question aloud.

"I mean from the bottom." Prince Haydn points to the broken latch at the base of the window. I stare at it for several seconds, wondering what on Earth Madame Sourbelle put into the legs merfolk purchase from her.

"He straight up donkey-kicked it open," I murmur. I join the prince, sticking my head outside the window. A narrow ledge runs along the roof all the way to a drainage pipe that descends to the ground.

"We need to find him before he does something stupid," Prince Haydn declares. He heads for the door, and I race after him. The Catonmousse brothers are on our heels. I can't figure out why they're tagging along. Perhaps they have nothing better to do.

Or perhaps they aided in Two's escape.

I spin around in a flash of irritation. "Did you have anything to do with this?"

Thomas, Right-Scar, shakes his head, but Jerrod just glares at me.

"Why do you care?"

"You helped him?" I nearly screech.

"Of course not," Thomas says, rolling his eyes. "We were with the police."

"Then why—"

"I don't answer to you," Jerrod says.

"Okay fine," I huff. My breath is growing short from talking and fast walking. "But no one invited you to tag along."

"Prince Tewen hired us for the next few days," Thomas says with a shrug. "So technically, he invited us."

I groan, turning around. Prince Haydn presses his lips into a smile that says 'I feel your pain.' On our way out, we pass Doctor Williams. Prince Haydn informs him of the situation, and the shocked doctor tells a nurse to call the police.

Wind and sun hit my skin at once as we exit the building. My blonde hair is swept sideways over my face, and I have to keep peeling strands away from my lipstick.

"Where do we look for him?" I pant, glancing up and down the street. Two is nowhere in sight, and there's little way to know where he went.

"Taxi!" Prince Haydn calls. A yellow cab that's passing by stops by the curb, and we file inside. Somehow, I end up sandwiched between Right and Left-Scar, while Prince Haydn rides shotgun.

"Where are we going?" the driver asks.

"We'll tell you when to stop." Prince Haydn flashes a smile that's about as relaxed as it could be under the circumstances. "We just want to see the sights."

The car rolls forward, rejoining the traffic clogging the streets. "Mind if I turn on some tunes?" the driver asks. Silence answers her question, so she flips on some heavy-metal band I've never heard before. The voices sound like nails screeching on a chalkboard, while the instrumental background is so low, I can barely distinguish pitch-changes. An ache pulses through my head, and I'm relieved when it finally ends.

"We interrupt this broadcast for a breaking news report," the announcer says. "A man in a white nightgown appears to be climbing up the side of the Empire State Building. He does not appear to be using any rope, only his hands and bare feet. A crowd has gathered around to watch this feat. Everyone is wondering who this mysterious person is, and why he hasn't fallen to the ground."

Prince Haydn whirls around, our eyes locking. "Can you take us to the Empire State Building?"

"Sure."

At the next traffic light, the car makes a left, then continues down the street. Impatience wells inside me. I clasp my hands together to keep from drumming them on my lap or biting at the polish on my white and gold nails. My eyes drift out the window, to the stores lining the streets.

I stiffen in place. Beside a set of sprawling, red-carpeted stairs that lead to what appears to be a luxurious hotel, confirmed by a sign for The Metropolis Hotel, I spot a silver box. This isn't not your average silver box, or shall I say ATM machine. No, big, bold letters mark it as The Salport ATM.

"But we aren't in Saltport," I breathe. Prince Haydn turns around.

"Huh?"

"Just... can we pull over?"

The driver slams on her breaks. We screech to a halt. My chest smacks the seatbelt, and nausea rises in my stomach. Car horns blare behind us as I attempt to crawl over Left-Scar, who sits on my right probably just to confuse me. My mini-run makes my heels clop on the pavement. I look like an absolute weirdo, trying to run, shimmer my dress down, and retrieve my debit card from my purse all at the same time.

I know it sounds crazy, but I feel compelled to see what the ATM has for me. If it hadn't been for The Saltport ATM, I wouldn't have survived my last few hours. Granted, by going to it in the first place, it put me in a position to be kidnapped, but that's water under the bridge. Right now, it's abundantly clear that it's no coincidence that the ATM is here.

There's something strange about it, a bit fantastical too. It knows and foresees what I don't. Maybe it can help with this situation in some weird, twisted way.

I stick my card in the slot. The same, eerie message scrolls across the screen: Good Afternoon, Jessi Albright.

It always is in the afternoon when I see it, isn't it? In fact, it's always around five p.m. I shake those thoughts aside, unable to process them at the moment as I stare at the blank screen.

The machine whirrs to life. Pulsing vibrations make the ATM wobble from side to side while gears sputter and click inside. Anticipation gnaws at me, and I nearly start nibbling on my nail. Finally, the money slot clangs. I bend down to peer at a slim bundle of bills and a bright orange cloth encased in plastic. I grab both and scurry back to the cab.

Crawling over Jerrod is a workout. My dress is just a little too short for comfort, and it rides up as I squeeze past him. Really, he ought to be more of a gentleman and vacate the vehicle so I can get in more easily.

"Everything alright?" Prince Haydn asks.

"Just... fine." My seatbelt clicks into place. "Let's get going."

The taxi meanders back into the traffic clogging the road. While we're backed up at a light, I peel back the plastic encasing the mysterious cloth the ATM deemed that I needed. After opening it, I realize it isn't a cloth at all. It's an orange kite with two koi fish on it.

The frown on my face deepens the further I go in setting it up. Why on earth would the ATM give me a kite? I have no use for such an item, and fully assembled, it takes up all the remaining space in the back of the tight cab.

"Hey, put that away, man," the cab driver barks. "I can't see."

I fold it up, laying the folded sides in my lap. At least I got some more money. Maybe it'll pay for a decent dinner tonight.

At long last, the Empire State Building looms overhead. Prince Haydn leaps from the cabbie the moment it stops on the curb, followed by Thomas and Jerrod.

"That'll be fifty bucks," the cabbie says. I stop halfway out the door. Slowly, painfully, I unzip my purse and count out fifty dollars. It just so happens that the ATM gave me exactly fifty dollars, all in fives just to make my life difficult. Tears threaten to burn in my eyes, but I blink them away, parting with the cash before I grow any more attached to it. There goes dinner, and perhaps any chance at a plane ticket, too.

My heels clatter against the ground as I race to join the others. They've paused at the edge of a huge crowd clustered outside The Empire State Building. A screen nearby portrays a man, probably some politician, with a microphone yelling instructions at them, at me, but my ears completely block him out. My attention tunnels as I watch Two climb up the steep building sides. So far away, he is reduced to a tiny figure inching his way higher.

"How hasn't he fallen by now?" I murmur.

"The webbing in our feet and hands is pretty sturdy," Prince Haydn says. My gaze whips to him in surprise.

"...please, everyone, stay back!" a male voice screeches overhead.

"Seriously?" I ask Prince Haydn.

"It'll take too long for me to chase after him," Prince Haydn says. He glances at a flash of silver on his wrist. "I don't know how long he's been up there. The webbing won't stick forever, especially for someone as inexperienced as him. We might only have a few more minutes before he gives way."

"Any ideas on what to do?" I ask. I glance to my sides, expecting to see Thomas and Jerrod. But to my surprise, neither is in sight. "Wait, where did the Scar-Twins go?"

"What?" Prince Haydn says.

"I mean, the Catonmousse brothers. Whatever."

He looks around. "I don't know. They aren't in sight."

My eyes drift to the screen, where the man stands before the microphone, still speaking. Honestly, the crowd's chatter combined with car engines on the road drowns out whatever important details he might be providing.

Suddenly, the man crumples to the ground, and Thomas appears in front of the microphone. In the background, Jerrod drags the blue-suited politician off screen.

"Prince Tewen will not come down from the Empire State Building until his demands are met," Thomas announces. "He wants the Aqualan Kingdom to be officially recognized as a state and for merfolk to gain the same water rights as recognized nations. Further details are available in this pamphlet that Prince Tewen printed."

Jerrod waves a slip of paper at the camera just before officers storm the screen. The mic goes dead because Thomas and Jerrod's mouths open and close like they're shouting, yet no words are heard. The crowd goes crazy, confused conversations swelling in the air.

"It looks like Two's in trouble!" Prince Haydn gasps. I follow his finger that points straight to the figure. Two seems to be trying to place his hand on the building, but it keeps pulling away, not adhering to the smooth surface. "We have to reach him!"

"How?"

"I-I don't know." Prince Haydn's eyes drift over the crowd.

Without warning, he pushes into the fray. His hand closes around mine just before he vanishes between the chattering New Yorkers. He moves with unnatural speed, dodging onlookers and vendors advertising popcorn or dollar-a-slice pizza. The smell of New York-style pizza is so good, it almost distracts me — almost. Only my mouth betrays me by salivating. My legs keep pumping forward, despite the pain in my ankles from running in heels.

"I'm going to need that," Prince Haydn shouts once we near the Empire State Building.

"What?" I want to smack myself the moment I ask the question. Of course he's referring to the kite clutched in my hands. I swallow, regain my composure.

It was a completely normal response. You've been running; you forgot about it.

"Why do you need a kite?" I ask.

"It's not a kite," Prince Haydn responds. "It's a glider."

There's little time to argue. We're almost to the Empire State Building. I shove the kite or glider or whatever it is into the prince's hands. He barrels past the security officers gathered around the building. I push through the pain in my feet to hurry after him.

"I'm Prince Haydn of Aqualan," he says to security as he kicks off his shoes. A few exchange glances. I miss what they murmur amongst themselves before one waves him forward. Prince Haydn clamps his teeth on the orange-koi canvas and takes a running start up the glass exterior. I stagger to a stop at the building's base, watching him rapidly advance on his brother.

Two's right foot peels away from the window. A faint cry drifts down from above, and a hush ripples through the crowd until the rush of wind becomes audible. His hospital gown sweeps around his feet. He grapples for a notch in the side of the building above him just as his left foot peels back as well. His head turns down, then quickly up again.

Minutes pass both quickly and in slow motion. Prince Haydn nears his brother, several yards below, then only a few feet, then mere inches. His arm wraps around Two, while his other grasps onto the orange canvas. He yanks Two from the windows. 

Both rocket through the air — plummet toward the ground.