The Feral Sentence- Complete Box Set

by Shade Owens

  “You haven’t learned anything, have you?” she said.

  Her lips curved upside down, so much so that she began to look demonic.

  The woman with the long ponytail tried one more time to get out of Zsasz’s hold, but Zsasz pulled back on her ponytail again, only this time, when the woman landed against her chest, Zsasz didn’t wrap her arm around her throat. Instead, a blade appeared, and in one quick slice, Zsasz slid its sharp edge through the woman’s throat.

  Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and dark blood poured out of the gash.

  Screams erupted around me and one woman came charging straight for Zsasz with both fists held high by her face. She didn’t even get the chance to hit Zsasz when Zsasz pushed the dead woman’s body to the ground and stabbed her attacker in the stomach. This woman—the one who’d come charging to defend her dead friend, dropped both arms on either side and stared at Zsasz.

  Zsasz smiled at her, then tore the knife out. The woman collapsed to her knees with her hand clutched over her bloody stab wound. She crawled to her friend, slurred words coming out of her slobbery mouth, then grabbed her friend’s pale face. “Please, Kay, please, come on. Wake up. Kay, wake up.”

  She did this for a few more seconds until her words became incomprehensible and she lay her head on her friend’s shoulder. The next thing I knew, neither one of them was moving, and both lay there lifeless, their eyes wide open.

  “Don’t you fucking underestimate me!” Zsasz snapped. With shoulders hunched forward, she looked like a monster out of a horror movie—unkempt hair, blotchy skin, and blood dripping from her hand. She breathed in and out fast, but it sounded raspy and strained. “You think sticking together will save you?” She burst out laughing, then reached her hand up and licked the blood sliding down her forearm. “I will fucking kill every single one of you if I have to.” Then, in one final outburst, she shouted, “Don’t you ever disobey me again!” and saliva came splashing out into the crowd.

  A heavy silence filled the city as everyone stared in horror.

  My heart raced and my throat became sticky. I’d never seen her like this before. Of course she was crazy—but this was a whole new side of Zsasz I wished I hadn’t seen. Was she seriously willing to kill as many women as necessary to teach us a lesson? Would she put herself and the other Beasts in a position of hardship by destroying the very people who kept them alive?

  Her bloodshot eyes rolled my way and my stomach sank. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, her gaze continued to explore the crowd as if searching for someone. Was she searching for the person responsible for all of this?

  “It was the troublemaker,” said the gorilla-looking Beast, her bright eyes finding mine.

  The bumpy skin on Zsasz’s ugly face stretched and she glared at me, a mixture of amusement and loathing in her eyes. “You.”

  I didn’t even have the time to contemplate trying to run. A cold hand suddenly grabbed me by the back of my neck, and someone’s hot breath blasted down against the top of my head.

  “Got her,” said the Beast behind me.

  Zsasz walked toward me, her steps slow and calculated.

  But then, someone else’s voice carried through the crowd.

  “It wasn’t her.”

  Who in their right mind would come to my defense? My eyes followed the voice, but… How was that even possible? Why would she come to my defense? It was the lanky-looking Beast—the one with dark bags underneath her eyes and unusually pale skin.

  Zsasz swung around. “What’d you mean?”

  “She didn’t start it,” the Beast said. Her eyes rolled toward me, then back at Zsasz. Was she an idiot? It was me—I was the one who’d jumped on Georgia. But there was no anger in her eyes; there was no hatred. Was she defending me? Why on Earth would a Beast try to protect a Peasant? And she wasn’t a trained Peasant, either. The dark digit tattoo on the inside of her wrist said as much.

  She was an Orphan—one of the Russian children raised on this island.

  “Then who did?” Zsasz asked. She was obviously annoyed by the contradictory information she was receiving.

  “Yes it was!” shouted the gorilla-Beast.

  But the tall, zombie-looking one shook her head. “No, Vluri, I don’t think it was. A few of them started it at the same time. We can’t punish one for the actions of many. You heard Rainer… She’s a merciful leader. And by the looks of it, you’ve already punished them.” She cast her eyes down at the two dead bodies lying in the dirt.

  “You also heard Rainer say that if this happens again…” said the gorilla-Beast.

  But the tall one shifted her gaze on her, which seemed to quiet her. “They didn’t kill one of our own. There’s no reason to keep slaughtering them.”

  Zsasz’s wild eyes searched the other Beasts, but they shrugged and looked away, not wanting to counter the tall one’s response. Were they scared of her?

  What was going on?

  Zsasz let out a frustrated grunt and turned away, brushing past the tall one, who I only then noticed was even taller than Zsasz. She stared at me a bit longer than necessary, making me uncomfortable. Her face was so expressionless, it was like staring into the eyes of a stone statue—I couldn’t even begin to guess what she was thinking.

  “Come on,” I heard, and someone tugged on my arm.

  It was Quinn. She held my wrist and shoved her way through the dense crowd. Whispers erupted around us, and I heard Georgia’s voice. “Oh Lord… What on Earth…”

  I swung my head around, but I couldn’t see her. She was too short, but based on her tone, she was disoriented and hadn’t the slightest idea what had happened. The pain in her face was probably setting in, and soon, she’d look down at all the blood around the collar of her shirt and have a panic attack, wondering if she was now disfigured. Then, she’d keep panicking when she realized that Kormace Island didn’t have mirrors.

  “I can’t—” I tried. “I can’t believe you.”

  I couldn’t think. What had happened?

  “What’d you expect?” Quinn said. “We’re in this together, Brone.” Her rose-cheeked face came into focus and I stared at the ring dangling from her nose.

  I wanted to thank her, but I couldn’t. I felt like I was floating in the air. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the realization that I’d escaped death so many times I was beginning to taste it. Soon, and very soon, my time would be up. I’d pushed my luck time and time again. Why had those two women died instead of me? I was the reason this whole fight broke out. Those women were only trying to protect me, and I’d gotten two of them killed.

  “Meet me at the hammocks at supper,” Quinn said, and her voice sounded like it had come from inside a long metallic tunnel.

  I nodded, or at least, I thought I did.

  Something loud suddenly snapped beside me and I flinched.

  “Back to your post!” shouted Alice Number Two. She clapped her hands again, and this time, right by my ear. “You too, Brone.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Arenas was quieter than usual—far more quiet than usual.

  Ever since the fight, she hadn’t said a word. She’d glanced up at me a few times, almost apologetically but looked away and went on scrubbing dirt off coconas—yellow, bell pepper-textured fruit that didn’t much taste like fruit.

  In the old world, I wouldn’t have known anything about it, but I knew they were called coconas because it had started a whole argument the other day.

  “Coconuts?” Arenas had said.

  “Coconas!” Coin had shouted.

  Arenas had cocked an eyebrow, thinking Coin didn’t know what she was talking about and didn’t know how to say coconut.

  “Co-co-nah,” Johnson joined in. Maybe she’d recently learned what it was, too, but didn’t seem to have any trouble understanding.

  Out of frustration, Arenas had flicked her wrists in the air as if to say, Whatever, and in the same motion accidentally propelled slime from inside a passion fruit onto m
y chest.

  The whole gang had laughed at me.

  Today, though, there was nothing to laugh about. We’d watched the violent slaughter of two more women, and no one seemed to have anything to say about that. Everyone was too afraid to talk, especially Arenas, who I assumed felt guilty for having talked back to me. Sure, Coin was the one who’d attacked her, but Arenas was the one who’d started the argument.

  Or, maybe… maybe Arenas felt guilty for having jumped Coin in the fighting ring. She’d jumped at her with every intention of killing her all because rules were rules.

  The afternoon seemed to drag on forever, and all I could think about was meeting Quinn by the hammocks at suppertime. What did she want to talk about? Were we going to devise a plan to fight back against those horrible Beasts?

  That was what I needed.

  A plan.

  “How did she look?”

  I turned my face toward the voice. It was that old Russian woman, the one who’d cared for the Orphans before their plane crashed on Kormace Island’s shore. I wondered what that felt like—losing the children you cared for to a monster like Rainer. That was precisely what had happened. Rainer had taken those young girls in her care, only to raise them to be soulless soldiers.

  The woman’s long chin pointed left and right as she licked her slobbery lips.

  What was she talking about? How did who look?

  “My sweet Iskra,” she said, the R rolling thickly off her tongue. It sounded more like she was reminiscing rather than actually telling us her name, whoever she was.

  “What’re you talking about?” Johnson asked, glaring at the old woman.

  The woman’s gray eyes, which sat deep beneath two protruding brow bones, rolled toward Johnson, then toward me. “My Iskra,” she repeated. “I thought I saw her.” She pointed a bony-knuckled finger in my direction. “Near you.”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I said, careful not to come across as rude. This woman had shared with us incredibly valuable information, and though I was hurting in too many ways to count and contemplating cutting off my own hand, I had to be cautious if I wanted to stay on her good side.

  We needed her.

  “Who’s Iskra?” Hammer asked, coming across as the gentle one.

  The old woman pressed a water-wrinkled hand on her lumpy chest and closed her eyes. “My sweetest girl. She vas always the quietest… Such a shy little girl. After de accident, she stayed with me for a long time, even as her friends followed Rainer.” She smiled to herself, a half-toothed smile at the center of tired skin, which was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time. “She still visits me some days… Visits old Olga. When dey aren’t around. De others.” Her eyes shifted, and she glanced in the general direction of the gates as if afraid to be caught talking about her dearest Iskra.

  I leaned forward with my elbows digging into my knees. “What does she look like, Olga?”

  Her face lit up like she’d been asked to talk about the magic of Christmas. “My Iskra?” She shook her head and excitedly wiggled her fingers in the air. “Oh, she is beautiful. Very tall, like model. Dark hair, big blue eyes.”

  “Taller than most?” I asked.

  Grinning, Olga nodded with two hands clasped together over her chest.

  Could it be possible? That one of the Northers—one of the Beasts—wasn’t as bad as the others?

  I wanted to ask more questions, but something sharp poked me in the back and I stiffened. I didn’t even have to look behind me to see what was going on; it was happening in front of me, too. A dozen women circled us, their eyes narrowed, their hands clenched in fists.

  I didn’t know what was pressing into my back, but it felt like a shiv. Coin glowered, as did everyone else, and I realized they were also being threatened at knifepoint.

  But the city kept moving—women continued to work their posts; the sound of metal hitting metal echoed nearby, as did the sound of wood being chopped into fine pieces. It was far too noisy in the city for anyone to notice an out-of-the-ordinary event.

  And right now, we looked like a bunch of women gathered in a circle.

  “Keep doing the shit you are doing, and you will not live to see another day,” said the one behind me. She had a thick accent I couldn’t distinguish—a blend between African and Middle Eastern. Her breath smelled like a garbage bag left outdoors for months. She pressed her hot, sticky face against mine. “You’re risking all of our lives.”

  She wasn’t a Beast—that much I knew. And neither were her followers, the ones circling my women. They all had skin as black as the night, thick lips, and hollow earrings that formed big holes in their ears. Across the bridges of their noses were small pieces of wood pierced through their skin, right between their eyes, the way a barbell sits under the skin of an eyebrow. They made me think an African tribe had somehow landed here on Kormace Island. But, at the same time, they looked native to the land with white-henna-tattooed faces and leafy clothing.

  “I’m not trying to risk anyone’s lives,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “We don’t care what you are trying to do,” she said. “Keep us out of it.” She gave me a hard nudge and my head rocked back and forth.

  Her followers did the same thing, digging their elbows into the necks of my women as they stood up. Coin winced and looked at me, but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t worth getting into a fight—not with these women. We were outnumbered, and I’d caused enough trouble for one day.

  I spun around in time to catch the leader looking back at me over her shoulder. I could barely see her features because her skin was so dark, but what stood out most were the white markings on her face. They looked like tattoos, or paint, only they resembled speckles of snow sprinkled across her skin. It spread down her neck and onto her shoulders as if she’d dived headfirst into a snowbank. Her followers had a few markings on their faces too, but nothing like hers.

  Where was she going, anyway? I’d never noticed her before. I watched as she disappeared through the merchant tents, her fuzzy, dreadlocked hair tied back in a ponytail and hanging in between her muscular shoulder blades.

  Great.

  Johnson leaned forward, her freckles almost invisible after having stared at that woman… At that Snow Face.

  “Who the hell were they?” she asked, her eyes darting at them.

  I shook my head. “No clue. I’ve never noticed them before.”

  “Me neither,” Coin chimed in.

  Hammer rubbed her chin pensively but seemed unable to pinpoint where she’d seen this woman and her tribe, so she shook her head and shrugged a shoulder.

  Arenas sat quietly, still staring at the ground, and Tegan… Well, she started blabbing away about snowstorms and how they always looked like dandruff falling from the sky.

  “Pssst.”

  Our heads followed the voice to a middle-aged woman who sat beside Olga. Cross-legged, she planted seeds in what appeared to be a newly built garden bed. She inched toward us like a crab, still in a seated position, and rested her elbows on her knees, all while Olga sat there chewing on her bottom lip and playing with her fingernails as if reality were nothing but a blurry dream.

  “That was Storm,” the woman said in a sharp whisper.

  I slapped a hand over my mouth, but the laughter came spilling out anyway. Seriously? Some big bad tribe leader had gone ahead and named herself after a character?

  Then again, she probably hadn’t taken the name from the comic book. She didn’t look like someone who’d grown up in Western civilization. More likely, she’d chosen it to sound fierce. I’d stick with Snow Face—it took away from the intimidation factor she wanted so badly.

  The others joined in on the laughter, but the woman didn’t seem impressed. Her wrinkled eyelids dropped, and her lips flattened as straight as a plastic pen.

  Coin’s mouth stretched wide into a grin. “She got any superpowers?”

  The woman who sat cross-legged raised an eyebrow.

/>   “Hey…” Johnson joined in. “Is she a mutant?”

  Clearly not in the mood for jokes nor having any knowledge of comic books, the woman flung a hand in the air and turned around in a huff.

  “No, wait,” I said. “Who is she?”

  The woman rolled angry eyes in my direction. She reminded me of an old grump who always frowned, no matter the situation—the kind of person who was seemingly allergic to any form of humor.

  But why was I laughing, anyway? I’d just been threatened at knifepoint.

  Maybe I was getting tired of being threatened. Maybe the idea of dying felt surreal now. Maybe having survived the most awful of situations imaginable, I couldn’t even conceive of anything worse than what I’d already endured.

  I was becoming arrogant and beginning to feel unstoppable.

  Or, perhaps, having cheated death so many times, I’d lost sense of reality and grown numb.

  Either way, when I thought of Lydia, I thought of someone else. I wasn’t me anymore. I was someone else. And though I’d fought so hard not to turn into something I hated, I hadn’t been able to stop it.

  “No one knows exactly,” the woman said. “She’s been here longer than most of us. Knows the ropes. Keeps her head low.”

  “If she keeps her head low, then why’s she threatening us?” I asked.

  “Same reason that group of women over there is staring at you.” The woman pointed a digging tool toward the merchant tents.

  Four women stood with their arms crossed over their chests and their heads lowered, shadows masking the color of their eyes. One of them leaned in and said something to the others, and they shifted in their stances but didn’t break eye contact.

  The woman turned around, stabbed her tool into the dirt, then looked back at me. “Looks like you’re making yourself some new enemies, my dear.”

  CHAPTER 5

  I paced back and forth, slipping through the hammocks and brushing my fingers along the tree trunks.

  “Whoa, easy,” Quinn said.

  “Easy?” I blurted. “Everyone’s turning on me.” But I stopped myself short when I caught Quinn’s bright eyes narrow, and behind her, a handful of women watching me like caged animals in an exotic zoo. “Well, not everyone,” I said.