Inhuman (35 page)

“I hate those things,” the queen groaned, and then gave a dismissive wave. “But the king says the heads keep the ferals away.”

“Might also be why people don’t come to Chicago anymore,” Rafe said with a straight face.

The guests began trickling onto the roof in such elegant and elaborate clothing, they could have been attending a formal ball. Well, except for the fact that they all wore bright blue Ferae tests around their necks. But as the guests strolled closer, I saw that the fashions were from twenty years ago — pre-exodus — and that everything had a tattered, musty look. The men’s tuxedos were faded and their cuffs frayed, while the women’s gowns were discolored or disintegrating and some smelled of mildew. There had to be plenty of high-end stores in Chicago to raid, and even more closets inside the mansions, but the delicate materials weren’t holding up nearly as well as a wool sweater might.

I let my eyes wander over what was left of Chicago. Towering shapes against the darkening sky, and beyond that, the dark expanse of Lake Michigan. There was something wrong with the view, but at first, I couldn’t put a finger on what…. Right. There wasn’t a single light on in any of the buildings beyond the fence.

Rafe joined me. “Figured out how we’re getting out of here yet?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

He leaned back against the low wall and folded his arms. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“You’re trapped in the Chicago compound,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m with the girl who’s going to end the quarantine.”

“What?” I stared at him.

He cut me a sly look. “The girl in Mack’s stories always does.”

“I’m not that girl.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re better. For one thing, you’re real. And two, you fill out that dress better than a ten-year-old could.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Give yourself some credit,” he went on, “not a lot of silkies would have made it this far.”

“I stopped you from killing Chorda,” I reminded him and then felt sick, hearing myself say the name aloud. That demented animal didn’t deserve a name. I shook off the memory of his twisted face. Thinking about the past would just shut me down and I couldn’t afford to let that happen right now. Not if we were going to escape.

“Hey, come on,” Rafe said. “It’s your first time in the Feral Zone. Of course you made mistakes.”

“Like falling for the wrong boy?” I’d said it to be funny, since he was always teasing me about Everson, but Rafe grew still.

He returned his gaze to the dark skyline. “No, you didn’t. He’s a stiff, but he’s a good guy. He won’t crawl out your window after you fall asleep or come on to your sister.”

“I don’t have a sister.”

“Missing the point.”

“He’s not you. Got it.” I nudged his arm. “You know, for all your talk, you’re kind of a good guy yourself.”

“Wrong. I’m the guy that stays alive.” He faced me, looking as serious as I’d ever seen him. “And the one you leave behind if you get the chance to escape. You understand?”

“What?” I frowned. “No. You got me this far. I’m not going to leave you.”

“Yeah, you are,” he said firmly. “I’ll be all right. I’m always all right. Lane, promise me if you get the chance, you’ll go and not look back.”

“No!”

The queen strolled over just then, preventing him from saying more. Just as well. There wasn’t any more to be said on that topic.

“What are you two talking about all by yourselves?” she asked in a sultry tone.

Rafe didn’t miss a beat. “We’re wondering what you have in mind for the feral down there.”

“Oh, it’s just a new handler’s initiation test,” she said with an airy wave. “To see if he can kill a feral armed with only a baton and knife. Omar is convinced this one is a natural. But he’s been wrong before. I don’t see how an initiate will be a match for the feral he’s picked out. That thing has already maimed two men. Left one completely blind.” She smiled suddenly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

I felt a throb of loathing for her and the other members of the court, happily risking a new handler’s life just so they could enjoy the show.

The handlers switched on the huge spotlights along the roof’s edge that were aimed at the yard and outer fence, turning the castle into an eerie oasis of light in the dark city. With a howl, the feral covered his eyes and skittered back until he’d reached the end of his chain.

A door opened and the initiate stumbled into the yard as if shoved from behind. He eased back into the shadows along the castle wall as he surveyed the courtyard. Like the other handlers, he wore a long leather apron, but also some sort of burlap padding from his wrists to shoulders. The protective sleeves were so thick, he looked like his arms were in casts, although they seemed flexible enough as he reached for the weapons offered by a handler — a knob-topped baton and a knife. As the handler spoke to him, the initiate nodded and practiced extending the heavy steel baton.

“You know, it’s strange, isn’t it? Finding three strays outside our compound in one day,” the queen mused. “Omar, where did the initiate say he was from?”

“He didn’t. He refused to tell us anything, which is why he’s down there.” Omar’s one eye sharpened on us. “He put up quite a fight,” Omar went on. “Between that and his fatigues, I’m sure he’s military, though I don’t recognize the uniform.”

After collapsing the baton, the initiate stepped out of the shadows and lifted his face. My heart stopped. In the yard three stories below stood Everson, dark haired, steel eyed, and fiercely defiant as he took in the crowded roof.

“Did not see that coming,” Rafe murmured and then glanced at me. “Relax. He was trained to kill ferals.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’s a soldier?” the queen hissed at Omar. “What if he came to reestablish contact? What if he has orders for the king?”

“If the West wanted to reestablish contact with the quarantine compounds, they wouldn’t send just one soldier.” Omar’s tone was so acid, the surrounding guests backed off as if afraid of getting splattered. “He’s a runaway or criminal. Either way, he’ll fit in here just fine.”

“The king and I decide who fits in here. Not you.”

Omar’s lips twitched as he unclipped a key from his belt loop, tossed it into the air, and caught it like he was flipping a coin. “I believe Queen Mahari said that once. And Queen Charmaine, she also thought she had a say in things.”

Mahari. Charmaine. The lionesses caged in the yard. They were the king’s ex-wives! No wonder Queen Sindee was unbalanced and insanely jealous. She had no idea how much longer she would be queen. Or human, for that matter.

Omar tossed up the key again, caught it, and reclipped it to his belt loop with a pat. It had to be the key to the ex-queens’ cage. If the current queen hadn’t been wearing her Ferae test, I would have sworn that she was on the verge of going feral based on how she was glaring at Omar. I hoped the two of them would rip each other to shreds. I turned my attention back to the yard below.

With the bright lights aimed at him, I knew there was no way Everson could see exactly who was up here — didn’t know that I was watching. As he took position where the handler indicated, I was tempted to call down to him. I wanted some sort of connection with him. Wanted him to know — What? What feeling was welling up in me? Fear, yes, of course. And worry. But something else too. Something I didn’t have a name for. Then, when the handlers circled the snarling feral, I was suddenly glad that Everson wasn’t paying attention to the audience on the roof. He’d need all of his focus to keep from being bitten by the slavering madman.

The feral lunged for the handlers, jaws snapping as he danced at the end of his chain. Two of the handlers backed away fast while the third lifted his gun and fired into the night sky. The sound echoed eerily through the dead city. The handler then unhooked the overhead chain and set the feral free.

The handler who’d released the feral now escaped into the castle. The door closed with an ominous bang. The feral was a huge, hairy figure standing on two legs, with long, sharp claws that reflected the light from above. Instead of leaping on Everson like I’d expected, the feral pulled his chain free of the sagging wire, turned tail — literally — and raced around the building. Was he checking for a break in the fence? From this vantage point I could see that his search would be useless.

Everson headed the other way around the castle. The handlers on the roof followed him with the spotlights. We crossed the roof to watch him stalk along carefully. The crowd jeered and placed bets. Everson made it to the backside of the castle, but the feral wasn’t there to greet him … or so he thought. At that instant the ivy erupted behind him. With an ear-splitting shriek the feral plunged from his hiding place.

I clapped my hands over my eyes. Suddenly there was silence. “Is he okay?” I hissed, and then dared to lower my fingers.

“Course he is,” Rafe whispered. “Guy’s no slouch.”

The feral had his jaws clamped down on Everson’s forearm, but the burlap padding protected his skin. Everson pulled his arm free and staggered back.

“He should have gutted it then,” Omar growled. “He had the chance.”

The feral bounded after Everson and, with a flying leap, took him down. Spinning and writhing together, they rolled over the grass. Everson cracked the feral in the face with the baton, which bought him enough time to spring to his feet.

Several people on the roof shouted their approval.

“Not bad,” Rafe said.

I elbowed him in the ribs. “This isn’t a wrestling match.”

“It kinda is,” he pointed out.

The feral bounced up and crouched, his yellow eyes catching the light. Everson launched forward and shoved the creature back against the wall. He lifted his arm and the feral instinctively clamped down. Again, the burlap padding protected Everson’s flesh, but this time instead of pulling away, he wedged his arm in harder. The feral’s eyes grew wide as Everson jerked the creature’s head forward, only to slam it back into the wall.

Dazed, the feral couldn’t get his jaws off Everson’s padded forearm. Everson cracked the feral’s head again and again against the stone, brutally, until the feral slumped forward unconscious. Everson ripped his arm out of the feral’s slack jaws and stepped into the spotlight to look at the roof.

The guests clapped enthusiastically and a couple whistled their approval.

“He hasn’t passed yet, Omar,” the queen sneered.

Omar leaned over the low wall. “The test isn’t over until the feral is dead. Gut it.”

Everson threw down his baton. “I’m not killing an unconscious man.”

“What man?” the queen asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“The hairy guy on the ground,” Rafe told her. “Human. Well, mostly.” The queen shot him an annoyed look. He held up his hands. “You asked.”

“Gut the feral,” Omar shouted as he pulled a gun from inside his jacket. “Or I will —”

With a snarl, the feral leapt up and charged at Everson with flashing claws and snapping jaws.

Everson dug into his apron pocket, pulled the knife, and met the feral head on, driving the point of the knife into his opponent’s gut. The feral roared, his fangs just inches from Everson’s throat. Everson threw back his head and plunged the knife in again. The feral’s claws caught Everson’s face, digging savagely into his flesh. Blood streamed down his cheeks. He thrust with all his strength and buried the knife in the feral’s stomach. They remained locked like that: Everson pressing the knife into the feral, the feral digging his claws into Everson’s face. With a growl the feral’s claws finally retracted and he sank to the ground — dead.

Everson collapsed by the feral’s body and covered his face with his hand.

“Now that’s more like it,” the queen gushed. Clapping and cheers erupted across the roof. “Very entertaining!” she called down to Everson.

Hate for her burst in me like a geyser. Couldn’t she see that he was devastated?

Omar holstered his gun. “He will take the test again every night until he guts the feral without hesitation.”

The evil man couldn’t have come up with a worse fate for Everson. To be forced into killing infected men night after night or get shot himself? We had to escape from this place before we all ended up insane or dead.

Dromo appeared before the queen and bowed low. “My queen —”

“What is it that can’t wait?” she snapped.

“The king has returned.”

The queen’s face became masklike and her cheeks lost their rosy flush. “Oh. That’s wonderful,” she said in a flat tone.

The woman was clearly scared to death of her husband, and given what I knew now, she should be.

She faced the crowd on the roof. “Everyone, I have good news.” The cheers and chatter cut out instantly. “The king has returned to the compound. You should all go to the ballroom on the second floor now. However, dinner will be delayed until the king joins us.”

As people shuffled toward the stairwell, the queen snagged Dromo’s sleeve. “What kind of mood —” She stopped herself, took a breath, and began again in a calmer tone. “Did he catch anything?”

“He must have. He’s in a very good mood,” Dromo said in a soothing voice.