by Ann Denton
The old woman’s face was full of fury. Her skin bubbled, and Mala watched as Alba struggled to focus on her anger—to hold onto it, to melt. But wracking shivers got the best of her, and her skin settled back into its familiar crisscrossed crevices.
“I hate you.” Alba’s teeth chattered as she glared up at Ein.
“I’m heartbroken.”
Mala slung Alba’s arm over her shoulder and began to walk away, but Ein grabbed her.
Alba looked at her questioningly, but Mala waved her roommate away. Alba didn’t look like she could stand five more minutes of cold, much less whatever Ein had in store. Alba gave her a pitying backward glance before scurrying back to their hut.
A rough shove sent Mala marching toward the nearest submarine. She stepped inside and Ein followed, closing the door against the wind. Her momentary relief from the cold was quickly shattered by Ein’s voice.
“What the mucking hell were you thinking?” he shouted. “Magic? Was that a suicide attempt right there? Because if it wasn’t, it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. We’re in the middle of an all-out political war here. If Tier had seen you … Do you want to be shot as a traitor?” Ein towered over Mala, and she was reminded of their first meeting. Only now, he wasn’t smiling. He was nearly purple with rage. Mala opened her mouth to respond, but his eyes burned into her before she had the chance.
And she saw a tall man with grey hair screaming at her, swinging a book into her ribs. The painful crack brought her back to reality. Mala emerged from the vision and realized she and Ein were standing eye-to-eye. But his rage was gone. Instead, for the first time since she’d known him, Ein was speechless.
“Who am I?” Mala demanded, taking advantage of his confusion.
“My father,” Ein responded automatically. He stared at her a moment more, then looked away and started muttering, his brain working rapid-fire.
“I …you … then I …” Ein prattled on under his breath. Mala sat down and rested her massive head against the wall of the submarine. She waited. When Ein got like this, she knew better than to say anything. And this melt had taken them both by surprise.
When his muttering slowed, she glanced up, “Figure it out yet?” her voice boomed in the compact room. She wasn’t used to such deep vocal chords.
“Can you melt back?” Ein asked. He avoided looking directly at her. Mala stored that little fact away for later.
“I need water,” Mala responded. Ein nodded and turned the wheel to open the door of the sub. He disappeared for a moment into the frigid night and returned with a handful of lake water.
“Pour it over my head, then give me your coat. And close your eyes,” Mala said, as Ein dumped the water unceremoniously over her. A glacial melt ran through her hair and her skin bubbled in response. Euphoria stole over her and despite the cold, a smile caught hold of her lips. I forgot how good this feels. Her entire body tingled, as if butterflies were landing on her skin. She sighed in pleasure.
When she finally opened her own eyes, Ein was staring down at her. His gaze was smoldering, but not with anger.
That’s when Mala realized he hadn’t handed her his coat.
“Turn around! Turn around!” Mala’s hands flew to cover herself. She tugged at the shredded remains of her wetsuit. When Ein didn’t respond, she turned around herself. “I told you to give me your coat! What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Ein’s hands were at her waist and he slammed her into the wall of the sub before she could breathe. The glacial metal stole the heat from her cheeks and chest.
Ein’s fingers traced her sides and when she slapped at him, he simply gathered her hands and pinned them with one of his own.
“I have a new theory,” Ein said into her ear.
The heat of his breath on her ear made her tremble. She tried to ignore it. And the heat of his body up against hers was a stark contrast to the frigid metal side of the sub. He’s done this before. Just get him into preachy theory mode and he’ll drop you. Mala eyed the sub door, trying to judge if she could make it. Too far.
“Ein, your theories are always pathetically wrong,” she scoffed.
Instead of bristling, as she’d hoped he would, he laughed. “You’re right. They were always wrong. Because I made them under the false assumption that you operate at a basic level like other Kreis. I was trying to shock you, scare you, entice you into melting. But now that I’ve seen it for myself, I don’t think you’re like other Kreis at all.”
He skimmed his teeth along her shoulder and she struggled to get free.
He chuckled breathily. “Mala, I think you’re special. And not just because your mother dropped your head on the boat deck. I think you melt in a way that’s unique.”
He flipped her around on the wall so she faced him. “And I’m about to prove it.”
She tried to kick him, but he used his long arm to capture her leg and pin it around his waist. He leaned forward and Mala turned her head to the side, desperate to escape him.
“Mala, look at me,” he crooned.
“No.” It was the only resistance she had left.
“Look at me and I’ll tell you my theory,” he whispered.
What other choice do I have? Slowly, Mala inched her gaze back in his direction. His hazel eyes were blazing with lust and triumph.
“I think,” he said, tracing his fingers along her thigh, “that your melts are in reaction to what other people feel. It’s not your amygdala that’s triggered, but theirs. I think you reflect back their emotions … by turning into the very person they associate with that emotion.”
His hand traveled dangerously high on her thigh and Mala used her heel to kick him in the butt.
“Did you want me closer?” he teased, pressing his body into hers.
Part of her body responded to him. But her mind kicked that part into submission. Gross. “Ugh! No. Back off!”
He took a step back so he could lean down and look at her.
Mala engaged warily. Keep him talking. Until daylight. Until someone comes to use this damn sub. “So you’re saying I’m doomed to become everyone’s worst nightmare?”
He cocked his head as he contemplated her question. “Mostly, yes. But, as part of that theory, I think there might be an exception. An exception that lets you melt into whomever you want. And I want to prove that part of my theory right.”
Without warning he leaned in and kissed her. Roughly. Deeply. He lifted her up the side of the sub and kissed her until they were both breathless. Mala’s thoughts shattered and fell away. Only sensation was left. The cold wall, his warmth, and his furious, controlling kiss.
Ein opened his eyes and whispered. “Mala. Look at me.”
She melted without a second thought. It was easy. It was fast. No vision clouded her senses. Heat stole over her body and in the blink of an eye she was standing before him, a muscular, heavyset older woman.
Ein gave a whoop of delight. He jumped and smacked the ceiling of the sub with his hands. He started to do a victory dance. But Mala’s punch knocked him to the floor.
“What the hell was that?” he grabbed his cheek.
“When are you going to realize that half-raping people in the name of science is not okay?” Mala shot at him.
“You stupid ingrate! Didn’t I just tell you that you melt based on other people’s emotions?” He climbed to his feet and marched toward her.
“So, what? You lust after old women?” Mala stumbled. She wasn’t used to the bulk of this older woman’s body; all of her training with Lowe had been focused on retreat and small, quick movements best suited to her petite stature. She had no idea what to do.
“Did you listen at all? Do your ears even work?” he taunted. “This is the exception. I’m the exception. I didn’t choose who you melted into, you did.”
“What?” She turned and looked at her reflection. She was heavily muscled. And her hair had streaks of grey. But her face was still beautiful. Lavender eyes stared back at Mala.
“I didn’t choose Verrat!”
“Whoever this is, you subconsciously chose … probably because you wanted to punch me. So you picked a she-man.”
Sludge. It makes sense. He doesn’t know her. How could he? I hate when he makes sense. But wait—he’s focusing on my part. Not on his. “So the only way you can feel anything is by holding a half-naked woman against her will? What does that say about you? Why does that make you an exception?”
“It says I have to choke back the vomit before I can feel something for a half-wit like you!” Ein snarled.
Mala’s foot slipped in the puddle of lake water. She melted back to her body before she hit the floor. And she was out.
Ein was cradling her head when she came to, his fingers delicately taking her pulse. And the look on his face was … concerned. Until he realized she’d opened her eyes. Then he shoved her back down.
“You’ll be happy to know brain damage isn’t possible for mouth breathers like you. So other than the bump on your head—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Mala jumped up on him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him furiously. At first, he tried to peel her off, but when she let out a low moan, he relented. His arms snaked up around her. She let him cop a feel.
“Ein.” She pulled back for a breath.
“Yeah?” His eyes were cloudy with lust.
“I heard you have a sister,” she replied. “How do you feel about making out with her?” She cackled as the melt took over.
Ein stormed from the sub, slamming the door behind him. Mala remained inside, laughing on the floor until her ribs hurt. But as the laughter died, she sat back on her elbows and sighed.
“Why does he have to be the damn exception? Why is he an exception? He never explained that.” Mulling that over, she stood and prepared to walk back to her hut and put Alba out of her worried misery. As she covered herself with the scraps of her wetsuit (destroyed after three melts) she caught a glimpse of her reflection. “No way!” She hurried up to the glass. Pouty lips, full blond hair, and a gorgeous figure that guys would trail after. That Typical boys did trail after. Ein’s sister is Neid! The only Typical to ever become Kreis … Ein’s sister is the Verrukter-stealer Alba hates so much? Ein’s sister? How the hell did that happen?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mala’s eyelids cracked open before she was quite sure why. Then she heard it: someone was pounding on her door. She rolled over. Alba's mattress was empty, just like it had been when she’d gotten home last night. Mala groaned.
“I'm coming.” She sat up, and when she did, she realized the hut didn't sway beneath her. She looked around again. No light drifted through the crack under the door. She couldn't smell the water. Where am I? She scuttled quickly to the pile of clothes in the corner and sifted through until she found her trident dagger. Wherever she was, someone had gone to great lengths to disorient her. Ein? But they'd left her a weapon. Ein wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that. Was it Verrukter? Is this another combat practice? Thank God I melted back into my own skin or I’d be mucked. Grimly, she slid behind the front door, her heart beating quickly.
She pulled open the latch and let the door fall open, raising the knife and squaring her feet. But no one stepped inside. Instead, she heard a distorted female voice say, “Welcome to your first espionage lesson. You can put down the knife. No one is going to attack you.”
Mala didn't lower the knife.
The voice continued. “In these lessons, you will learn several skills: to listen, to find, to steal, and to escape. Today, you will learn to listen. It's a skill you will use on reconnaissance missions and even on assassinations in order to verify intel. Your goal is to determine what is said. When you can fit your words to the video, you will be free to go.” Mala heard a metallic click, and she tensed. Eerie silence filled the room.
Cautiously, she edged around the door, her arm tensed and ready to throw the knife. No one was there. Only the sound of her own breathing echoed throughout the black chamber. It looked as though her hut had been placed in the center of a large windowless hall. A very dim green light came from a series of neon tubes far above. Another thin line of light snuck in underneath a door at the far end of the room. Mala tried the handle cautiously. It was locked. She gave a sigh.
Another click. Mala threw herself to the floor. But soon she regretted her skittishness. The click had turned on a projector overhead and a silent movie played on the wall in front of her. For a minute, she stared. Bara's guard had lived on the periphery of Senebal territory. And the guards she and her mother had been with before Bara’s hadn’t been much more advanced. She’d only seen one video before, of the president making a speech. It took a second for her to shake off her awe at the miniature people moving in front of her.
It was foggy and a boat drifted up to a dock. A pair of leather-clad men clambered down. It was only as they grew closer that Mala saw their striped blue noses. Her lip automatically curled. The Wilde Erlenders walked casually past, chatting and laughing, though she couldn't hear what they said. Behind them, a second group unloaded the boat. The heathens rolled out large pieces of scrap metal and bags stuffed with stolen treasures. A giant brute climbed over the side of the boat and jumped onto the dock. He tugged at a long thick chain and yelled. That's when Mala saw them: six survivors. Her breath caught in her throat and she reached a hand to trace the moving images on the wall. Six left ... out of well over a hundred. She swiped at her eyes.
Three young boys emerged. Mala didn’t know their names. They’re so little! How old’s that biggest one? Six, maybe? Bile rose in her throat. Garon followed, hulking, sullen, and silent behind them. For all that she’d hated him, Mala hadn’t wished this future on him.
Sari, the drunken bride, shuffled forward, a nightmare to behold. Her eye makeup ran down her face in black tear tracks. Her ruined cheek was attached to her face with safety pins.
Last came Sorgen's violet-eyed widow, Verrat. She stared at her feet, unlike the other prisoners, who glanced nervously around. She was always so proud. So strong. And now she looks … broken.
They were all connected to each other by short lengths of chain. When a little boy fell, the entire group stumbled. Mala’s heart swelled like a bruise at the thought that she should have gone back. I might have saved them. I should have done something.
An Erlender general stomped into view. Someone else might have thought he was just a poor man in patched rags, but Ges had taught her the marks of Erlender rank. In addition to his blue nose, a series of dotted lines were inked on his left cheek.
The general evaluated his prisoners like one might check an animal. He lifted and dropped their arms. He forced their mouths open and peered inside. When he was satisfied, he snapped his fingers. Several blue-nosed lackeys ran up. He gave them each directions. Mala tried desperately to watch his mouth. She thought he whispered “fields” when he sent Garon off. She thought she saw his lips form the word “observation” for the little boys. But she had no idea what he mumbled about Sari or Verrat.
The screen flickered and the image died. Mala was left in darkness for a moment, before she heard a click. The video sprang back to life, beginning again.
It took several viewings before Mala could tamp down her self-loathing and focus on the task at hand. She really only felt calm after she’d insulted herself. What would you have done, idiot? It’s not like you were combat-trained. You didn’t have a gun. And they had lots of them. She heard Lowe’s voice in her head once more. You will make a difference here. You will find revenge here. And if you want it, maybe something more.
Mala sharpened her focus. Still, it felt like days before she had a handle on what was being said. Erlenders elongated their words and that made it difficult for her to understand them. In the dark room it was impossible to have any true concept of time. Her throat was raw and parched. Her eyes became sore from staring at the screen. But finally, she thought she had it. She called out into the ether. “I think
I know! I think I know what was said.”
Immediately, the video rewound to the beginning. Mala mouthed the words as the two men walked up the deck. “Haw many sorrows didja’ earn?” one asked the other.
“Twelve,” his skinny friend replied. “More dan I ever gotten.”
“Me too,” the Erlender sighed. “And it wuz a waste. No gurl ...”
“Dat's whaat we git for trustin’ a witch,” Skinny said.
His husky friend groaned. “Yer right. But now we hav’a tell da’ general and tha’ chiara.”
“That's yer job. No way I'm tellin’ her she wuz wrong.”
Mala recited these lines blandly, glossing over them because she understood the words but not the meaning. I’ll have to check with Ges about sorrows.
The men walked out of the frame and Mala focused her attention on the prisoners. The general performed his inspection, and she said his lines through her teeth. Ges’s descriptions of General Keptiker had been accurate. His evaluation of the prisoners was so cold, so scientific. And unlike Ein’s arrogance, which aggravated her, General Keptiker gave off no emotion whatsoever. He could have been sorting plants or boat parts.
Mala repeated his lines directing Garron to the fields. She had to breathe deeply as she repeated his command to send the boys “out to tha’ house fer observation.” She didn’t even want to think what that might mean. When he turned to the women, Mala swallowed hard and forced herself to continue. “Dis one, he can be my errand boy.” He gestured to Sari’s scarred cheek. “’er face ain’t no good. But dis one,” he gestured at Verrat, whose neck was still covered in ashes. “Take ‘er to my office. Chain ‘er up. Tell the guards … free reign.” He winked.
Mala hadn’t been a warrior, but she had heard about the evil things Erlenders did to prisoners. Slaves like Garon or Sari were made useful, beaten only as deemed necessary. But to give guards free reign. Verrat will just be breathing bag of body parts. It was the worst kind of death sentence. Mala bit back tears. Verrat merely bowed her head, accepting her fate.
