He leans in and a million thoughts flood my mind. Things like:
Do I let him kiss me so he believes I’m not a threat?
Do I slap his face and drag my nails across his cheek?
Would his lips feel like Guy’s?
Guy.
“Hey, Titus.” I hear someone say. Titus swears loudly and shoots a death stare at the speaker — Braun. “Just wanted to let you know AK-7 is back with dinner.”
Titus sighs heavily and rolls his wrist. “Well, then, bring that fat bear over here.”
I breathe out and curl into myself with relief.
I almost kissed someone I’d like to kill.
Inside my head, I scream.
I’m still reeling from my near kiss with a murderer when Braun returns. The enormous guy has Titus’s Pandora at his heel. Between the grizzly’s jaws is something that looks like a spotted dog. Titus claps his hands and says we’ll eat like kings, that this doesn’t look half bad. I flinch and look away. No matter how long this race wears on, I’ll never get used to seeing my food whole. When I get home, I may never eat meat again. Vegetarian or bust.
After the guys have cleaned and cooked the animal, they offer Titus and me a generous portion. I take it, close my eyes, and chew as quickly as I can. The meal tastes bland and tough, and has the distinct flavor only burned meat does. When I’m done eating as much as I can force down, I offer a large piece to Madox. My fox looks me over like he’s making sure I’m satisfied, then takes the food from my hand and chows down.
“I can’t believe you do that,” Titus sneers. “Feed that thing.”
“They get hungry, just like us,” I answer, keeping my eyes on Madox.
“But they’re built to survive without it.”
“How do you know?”
“Look at my bear,” he says. “It’s the same size it was weeks ago. It hasn’t lost an ounce. Me, on the other hand, I’m fading in the wind.”
Glancing at Titus’s swollen muscles and large frame, I find it hard to believe he’s lost weight. But his face does appear thinner than it did in the jungle. And my waist and hips have never been this narrow. Inspecting Madox closer, I notice he does seem to be the same size. But when I watch him eating the meat, I know he’s happy.
“They enjoy eating, otherwise your bear wouldn’t have eaten that rabbit in the jungle.”
Titus laughs and points a finger at me. “See, you even know what kind of animal it was. You remember that moment.”
Rolling my eyes, I stand up. I’m not sure if what I’m about to do is just to piss Titus off, but once I’ve decided I’m doing it, I can’t stop. Grabbing a hunk of meat off the cooked dog — and nearly gagging — I move toward the Pandoras and provide them each a piece. Most turn away and refuse to eat it. But that’s fine, because what I’m doing is more of a statement. These creatures help us, and we need to treat them with respect. I give Braun a piece and he passes it to his pig, all while keeping an eye on Titus.
Finally, I get to AK-7. The bear sits on the ground with his paws in the sand. I step closer to him, and my heart pounds. Out of all the Pandoras, he’s the one I’m most afraid of. This is Titus’s animal, and there’s no telling what it’s been trained to do. I bring my hand up and the bear recoils like I’m going to hit him. When I see him pull back, my chest aches. I kneel down in front of the bear and Madox whines behind me.
“Here,” I say, holding the meat out.
“Get away from my Pandora, Tella,” Titus says slowly, evenly. “You can play nice with the other ones, but that there’s mine.”
The bear watches Titus speaking over my shoulder, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two of us. I drop the meat between his legs and back away. The creature glances down at the food, then up at me with something that looks like disbelief. But that can’t be.
Can it?
“Don’t you eat that, AK-7. You hunt for yourself if you’re hungry,” Titus says.
I spin around and square my shoulders. “Let him eat if he wants to. God, Titus. For once, just be a human being and have some compassion.”
Titus’s eyes widen like he’s surprised I just said that. But then his face changes, darkens. He jumps to his feet and races forward. I cower, expecting him to strike me. But he flies past and slaps the piece of meat from the bear’s paw.
“I told you, no,” Titus yells in the Pandora’s face.
All my anger toward him boils over. Before I can think, I shove Titus as hard as I can. He stumbles, trips over the bear’s leg, and hits the ground. From across the fire, I see Braun stand up. The other guys stay put, waiting to see what happens.
“Don’t scream at him,” I yell. “Scream at me if you’re so pissed.” I hit my chest. “Scream at me.”
Titus pulls himself up and kicks his bear’s leg out of the way. The bear scoots backward and lowers his head.
I ready myself for a fight, but Titus only smiles. “See what I mean?” he roars. “That’s the fire I’ve been talking about!” In a heartbeat, he crosses the distance between us and slams his mouth over mine. I place my palms against his chest and push like I did before, back in the jungle. But this time, he doesn’t budge. His tongue slides across my lips, and my scream comes out muffled. Grabbing at my back and waist, he tugs me closer until I feel him press against my pelvis. Because I can’t shove him away, I come up with another plan. I’m going to bite his tongue off. I feel the wet slick of it against my mouth, and this time, I open my lips to grant it access.
Titus groans.
“The device,” someone calls out. “The device is blinking.”
Titus pulls away from me, breathing hard. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, completely unaware of how close he just came to losing his tongue. A smile crawls across his face, and I try with everything I have to pretend it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. To not show my horror.
To not give away that I will flee. Tonight.
The guy strides to our side of the campsite, holding his device up as evidence. When I look away from Titus, I’m surprised to find Braun nearby, shades of fury stretched across his face. His pig is at his side, grunting and raising its nose into the air.
Was he about to help me again? I wonder.
There’s something in Braun’s eyes that tells me he isn’t like the rest. Already, he’s done two things to aid me: He held me as Titus killed Nick, and he interrupted Titus’s kiss. I wonder what else he’s willing to do.
I startle when I see a second pig nearby. It’s identical to Braun’s, but this one’s eyes are emerald green. If Braun wasn’t about to help me, Madox sure as hell was. I almost laugh seeing my fox as a pig. Almost.
Titus digs his device out of his pocket and places it into his ear. The rest of the guys follow suit.
“Give me mine,” I say.
Titus pushes the red button and listens.
“Give me my device,” I repeat, louder.
He holds his hand up and makes a face like I’m annoying. But he has no idea how annoying I’ll become if I don’t get that device. I stop bugging him when I notice the way Titus’s face changes. The way his eyes widen and his mouth goes slack.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s she saying?”
The other four guys come to join Titus, Braun, and me. They eye the stolen Pandoras. And they eye Madox. A clap of fear strikes through me, and I move to stand in front of my fox/pig.
The guy with long legs and big shoulders pulls out his switchblade and thumbs the knife into place.
“Now hold on,” Titus says. “We’re going to do this real calm like.”
But there’s nothing calm about the way Long Legs creeps toward the Pandoras. And now the guys behind him are pulling out their own knives.
“What’s happening, Titus?” I reach for my knife, which of course isn’t there. “What are they doing?”
“I said, wait,” Titus barks.
The guys still don’t listen. Long Legs lets out this strangled cry and races toward
the Pandoras. He moves quickly, so quickly, madness dancing on his face in the fire’s glow. In two calculated movements, he pulls his knife into the air, then drives it into the belly of a Pandora.
The Pandora — a llama — cries in pain and trots in circles, blood painting the sand.
Behind Long Legs, the other guys spring into action. They dart toward the creatures, their knives flashing. But this time, the Pandoras know what’s coming. They bolt into the cold night — wings beating, hooves thumping. I almost whoop with joy when Harper’s eagle flies into the air and vanishes. The guys pursue the Pandoras as Titus screams.
“I told you to tie them up,” he yells. “Every damn night! Tie the Pandoras up before you eat! How hard is that?” Titus paces, hands in his hair. “Now what are we going to do? What are we going to do?”
Moments later, the guys return. They pant and bend over to catch their breaths as I try to figure out why they’re killing the Pandoras. But they’re not trying to hurt all the Pandoras. Just the stolen ones. All that’s left now are our own. Slowly, Long Legs raises his head. His eyes fall on something lying on the ground. My muscles clench when I realize what it is.
I thought all the stolen Pandoras had flown. But I was wrong.
There’s one left.
Levi’s ram.
Instinctually, I race toward it, silently begging Madox to follow. My Pandora stays right by my side as I throw myself in front of G-6.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I snarl. “But you won’t touch this creature.” Braun moves toward me, and I jab a finger in his direction. “I’ll ask my Pandora to change. He can mimic anything your Pandoras can do. And he will kill you. To hurt this ram, you’ll have to hurt me. And then my fox will kill you.” I hold both my hands up in front of me, hoping that what I’m saying is true.
“Tella.” Titus says my name like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t be unreasonable. There are six of us, and we each have Pandoras. We can get past you. And we can get past it.” He nods toward Madox.
I nearly scream when a ball of gray rolls next to my boot and into the firelight. Everyone stops and looks down. Titus cocks his head. “What the hell is that?” he says.
The ball of gray unravels and spikes shoot out from its fur.
“It’s my Pandora, asshole,” Ransom says, stepping into view. “And the girl’s right. You’re not killing that ram. Over my dead body.”
When I see Ransom so close by, the knife in his hand and the resolve on his face — my heart leaps. My plan was to flee tonight as the guys slept. But now is even better. I step closer to Ransom and we exchange looks. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to know we’re on the same page. That we’re going to get Levi’s ram and get the hell out of here.
“You’re crazy if you think you’re leaving with that Pandora,” Long Legs says.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m not,” Ransom answers.
“For crying out loud, can we stop making empty threats?” Titus grins like this is the most fun he’s had all year. “Get this joker out of here.”
The guys charge us. I think their goal is to hurt Ransom, but they seem much more interested in DN-99, the little raccoon who could. One guy chases the Pandora around the blaze, and in the blink of an eye, DN-99 burrows beneath the sand and is gone. The creature reappears seconds later beneath the guy’s feet. Spikes spring out from the Pandora’s coat and jab into his boots. The guy hollers in pain and falls to the ground. He tugs his boots off and inspects the damage.
Upon seeing this, the other Triggers become more agitated. They watch as the raccoon disappears once again. And then they wait.
DN-99 bursts from the ground beneath another guy’s feet, and down he falls.
“He’s like a land mine,” I tell Ransom.
“That he is.” Ransom smiles in my direction, and I’m so happy, I almost don’t see a third guy storming toward me. Luckily, Madox does.
Stop him! I think, though I have no idea how Madox could do that.
My fox — dressed as a pig — races in front of me and oinks insistently. Surprisingly, the guy stops, knife-wielding arm suspended in the air. He meets the pig’s eyes dead on, and when he does, an empty expression crosses his face. Then he brings the knife down and points the tip beneath his own chin. Even though the guy doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening, his whole body shakes with fear. The knife digs into his neck and a trickle of blood escapes the wound.
Understanding crashes over me. “Madox, stop.”
My Pandora backs away, and I back away with him. When Madox breaks eye contact, the guy shakes his head like he’s confused. It’s like he doesn’t remember that a pig just mind freaked his ass.
Hearing a loud squealing sound, I spin around. The guy without boots is trying to plunge his blade into Madox. But my Pandora is too quick for him. And now he’s got a pissed-off Contender joining the fight.
I leap on the guy’s back and dig my fingers into his eyes. The guy howls with pain. My attack ends early when a pair of hands wraps around my waist and throws me to the ground. The guy who assaulted me hurdles over my body and chases after Madox. Everywhere I look, the same thing is happening. Titus is trying to slaughter Braun’s Pandora, and Braun is trying to fight him off. Two more guys are crawling after Madox — one on his hands and knees with bloodied feet, and another on two legs. A fifth guy is scurrying after the raccoon, and the last person is wrestling with Ransom over G-6.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I grab on to a guy’s arm and wrestle him for the knife. There is a moment, as I’m fighting for the blade, when I remember that I own a green, rhinestone-encrusted hoodie that says GIRLS DON’T FIGHT. THEY FLAUNT. I’m wondering if it’s still in my closet when the guy pops me in the side of the head.
The world goes blurry.
When I clear my eyes, I notice Ransom has beaten back his attacker. He has one hand around the rope attached to G-6 and his raccoon by his side. All three look ready to retreat. But there’s a problem.
Me.
Ransom tilts his head and a pained look crosses his face. I know what he’s thinking. He came to rescue his brother’s Pandora. After that, he’s here for his sister. He also knows if he stays, he’s sacrificing his sister. The girl who loves her boyfriend and mood rings and hard-to-find mint cases. And her brothers. One of whom is dead.
“Go,” I say. When Ransom doesn’t budge, I scream so loud, my throat burns. “Go! Get away from me!”
He takes a few steps back, but looks confused.
“God, Ransom. Get the hell away!” I yell with conviction. Like I’ve got a plan that doesn’t involve him. “You’re screwing everything up. Go!”
Something seems to click inside his head. He turns and races into the desert. The guys move to go after him, but I throw myself in their paths. I punch groins and bite into arms and grab ahold of legs and don’t let go. I do anything I can to slow them down. And they, in turn, grace me with heavy blows. But not too heavy, because Titus is watching.
“Stop,” Long Legs says. “That punk is gone. He’s gone.”
“Could’ve predicted that.” Titus brushes off his shirt, unruffled. “That’s what happens when there’s no structure.” He looks at his crew. “Complete idiots.”
“The woman said we have to —” someone begins.
“I know what she said,” Titus interrupts.
Long Legs looks at Madox, his lips curled back. “I’m going to get the shape changer. The rest of you do another one.”
“I don’t think so,” another guys barks. “We’re not going to fight each other while you wrestle with the girl.”
“I should get the shape changer,” someone else says. “I always take the smallest portion of food. I complain the least. I’m owed this.”
My adrenaline slowly reveals itself for what it is — fear. Why did I tell Ransom to go? What was I thinking? Hoping they won’t notice, I take small steps backward. If I can get a head start while they’re quarreling, then maybe I ca
n escape. I take another step, then another. The guys’ voices raise and they move toward one another.
“Maybe I should take out your Pandora,” one says to another. “You’ve always been a pain in my ass.”
“Oh, so you’re a tough guy now?” the guy responds. “Try it and see what happens.”
“Both of you shut up,” a new voice growls.
“Don’t tell me to shut up. You’re the one always running your mouth.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
I steal another few steps. Then two more. Then three.
Finally, after enough verbal threats, someone throws a punch. Before I can think, the guys are rolling over one another in the sand, growling and kicking and throwing blows. I don’t wait. I know I have to bolt.
Right.
Now.
Spinning around, I manage four long strides before I slam into something solid.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Titus whispers. He jabs his knife toward my stomach. The point breaks the skin and keeps me from moving for fear of making it worse. “If you’re smart, you won’t say a word. You’ll just circle around me real slow-like and start walking.”
Even though I’m a few paces from the fire, there’s enough light to see Titus’s face … and the grizzly bear looming behind him. I nod my head like I understand what he’s telling me. My heart feels like it’s going to explode as I circle around him. I arch my back when I feel the knife slide between my shoulder blades. And then we walk.
Titus forces me to travel quickly, almost at a jog. It isn’t long before I can’t see anything at all. My terror builds until I can hardly stand. Titus doesn’t want me dead. He wants me to join him in this race. Titus doesn’t want me dead. I repeat this over and over in my head, though it does nothing to slow my pulse.
Fire & Flood Page 24
