The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,1

Two and Rule Three,” Tessela said mechanically, as though Cora was just another troublesome human. “Of attempting to escape your enclosure. Of lying to the Warden.”

Cora blinked against the light. “That isn’t the whole story. You know that.”

Tessela grabbed Cora’s arm with shocking strength and hauled her to her feet, then released her and stepped away. Another Kindred stood in the doorway, dressed in a uniform so dark a blue it was nearly black, with the most intricate knots she’d ever seen running in twin rows down the front. He stepped into the light and she drew in a sharp breath. Fian. Another of Cassian’s team. The first time she had met him, he’d nearly choked her to death, never mind that it had been a trick by Cassian to earn her trust. She rubbed the base of her throat at the bad memory.

“If you just ask Cassian . . . ,” she started, but faltered on the sound of his name. No, Cassian wouldn’t help her now. Cassian had bent the rules for her when she’d had trouble adapting to her previous enclosure, but that was before her escape attempt. Before she’d found out Cassian was the Warden—the one manipulating her the entire time.

Light reflected off the sharp needles and gleaming metal of an apparatus in Fian’s hand. Her stomach curled. The Kindred claimed they didn’t experiment on humans, but she’d seen them sticking needles into a dead girl, looking for signs of evolution. It seemed the only thing the Kindred feared was that their precious human pets, whom they had so ironically sworn to protect, might one day become as clever as they were.

And we are, Cora thought loudly enough for Tessela and Fian to read it.

Tessela only blinked. “Extend your arms by your sides,” she commanded.

Cora shook her head. “Where are Lucky and Mali?”

“Extend your arms.” Tessela took a step toward her. “This is for your own good.”

Cora ducked and ran for the wall where the doorway had been, but Fian was impossibly fast. He grabbed her arm with a twist of pain and held her hand out to her side. Tessela took the apparatus from Fian. It began to hum, probably triggered telekinetically.

“It was my idea to escape, not theirs,” Cora insisted. “You can’t punish them.”

Tessela approached with the apparatus. Now that it was closer, it looked similar to the sensors that the Kindred medical officer, Serassi, had inspected them with, only this one had half-inch-long needles protruding from the end.

“We do not believe in punishment,” Fian said flatly. “That is a primitive concept.”

Cora would have laughed if her throat hadn’t been closing up in terror. What did they call being locked in the cell, if not punishment?

Tessela pressed the needles to her skin. Cora hissed as the needles suddenly moved on their own, not stiff but fluid, working their way into the palm of her hand. Too tiny to be painful, but just as uncomfortable as microscopic worms burrowing into her skin.

“Please,” she gasped. “Tell me if Lucky and Mali are okay. And Nok and Rolf too. Are they still in the cage? Is Nok’s pregnancy okay?” Cora gritted her teeth as Tessela pressed the apparatus to her other palm. “Just tell me!”

Tessela finished and holstered the apparatus. Cora looked down at her hands. A strange pattern of lines and pinpricks covered her palms and circled the base of her fingers like half-moon rings. The half circle on her ring finger was more prominent than the others. The pinpricks there radiated out like a star. In the cage, the Kindred had branded each ward with constellations to pair them together; but these concentric circles and rows of tiny markings had nothing to do with the night sky.

“I don’t understand.”

“You aren’t meant to,” Tessela said. “The code is for our record keeping, not yours.”

Fian released her, and she sank back against the wall. She squeezed her fists, curling her fingers around the lines and symbols that now marked her as Kindred property.

With a rumble, the wall seams started to break apart again to reveal the doorway. She jerked her head up.

A new figure filled the doorway.

Black eyes.

Skin the color of copper.

A scar on his neck and a bump in the bridge of his nose—imperfections on an otherwise perfect face.

Cassian.

Focus? She could barely breathe. The first time she’d seen Cassian had been in her dreams. With his impossible beauty, she had thought he was an angel. Now she knew: he was a monster, like all of them.