Otherkin

by Nina Berry

  “Now you know,” he said.

  I nodded. “Now I know.”

  “And now it’s time we got going.” He motioned toward the car and fell into step next to me. We walked back to the Beemer, not touching, but side by side. Something had altered between us. The electricity that once traveled over my skin whenever he was near thrummed deeper in me now. But I didn’t want to think about it too much. I pictured the brace encircling me, holding all my feelings back, shoving them down until I could figure out how to deal with them.

  As soon as the others saw us moving toward the car, they piled in. We filled up the Beemer’s tank and headed into the desert. As I gazed out at the monotonous landscape, I realized how fortunate we were that Caleb had lived on the Tribunal compound. Even though I’d been there a couple of weeks ago, I never could have found it again. But Caleb, his dark eyes keen on the road, had no problem finding the tiny dirt track that curved off the highway.

  The familiar talcum smell of desert dust hit my nose. Cold air bit into my cheeks, but I was glad to have the windows down. Riding down the road with the wind in my hair was the next best thing to galloping down it in tiger form. The thought that I might never be able to do that again gnawed at the back of my mind. I missed my tiger self. At first I’d been so terrified of it, I just wanted it to go away. Now I missed my scary parts. Plus jumping, climbing, and tracking prey were almost as much fun as kissing a cute boy when you were both blindfolded.

  I glanced over at Caleb’s profile, finely etched in the glow of the dashboard lights. He looked over at me, and the smile that made my heart twist played around his mouth. The elegant fingers of his right hand lifted off the steering wheel to take hold of mine.

  “I like going into battle with you,” he said, in that low nonwhisper meant only for my ears.

  At the horizon, a shining sliver of the rising moon sent shafts of vibrating light across the landscape. To my sharp night eyes, it outlined every needle on every cactus, every grain of sand.

  Caleb switched off the headlights, and I got in the driver’s seat. My night vision would serve us better. Arnaldo and London shifted into animal form. I opened up the moonroof, and Arnaldo perched there, his razor-sharp talons gripping the edge as we trundled down the road again. London put her front paws on the windowsill and stuck half of her lean, muscular body out of the car, lifting her nose to catch the different scents in the air.

  A halo of light hit my eyes before I saw the buildings in the compound. Caleb directed me off the dirt road, and we bounced slowly over the desert. I dodged the larger rocks and clumps of cacti, keeping an eye out for the smoother dirt of the landing strip Caleb said lay east of the compound.

  Arnaldo gave a soft caw, then leapt off the top of the car and flew low in front of us, his wingspan wider than the car.

  “He’s seen something,” Caleb said, as Arnaldo curved to the west. I followed. In eagle form, Arnaldo could spot the date stamped on a penny from three hundred yards.

  Then I saw it, the outline of a crouched “T” on a suspiciously smooth patch of ground. The T turned out to be the wings of a small plane with a propeller on the nose, tilted back on its tail at the end of a short dirt runway. It was a relief when the tires finally hit the level airstrip and the car stopped jostling.

  A few hundred yards away, spread out under the stars, lay the rectangular buildings of the Tribunal compound. I half expected to see the side door of the warehouse swing open and distant versions of me and Caleb run out, hounded by bullets. But everything lay quiet.

  The office abutted the warehouse on its north side, but about one-third its size. It too had a door that opened on the parking lot, as well as a side door to the north, which gave onto a small pathway. On the other side of the path, just a few feet away, sat the building which the Tribunal called the laboratory. Caleb had been inside it only once, when he’d hurt his hand, and even then he’d seen only the first two rooms. So he knew that it served as a sort of first aid station. Beyond that, we could only guess.

  Follow the pathway west, Caleb had told us, and you’d find the house where he had lived with Ximon and his siblings, along with other homes for the objurers. We speculated that a few of the people we’d fought that morning would be sleeping in those buildings. I could just see the outline of those faraway structures, where not long ago Caleb had gotten to know what was left of his family.

  “Stop here,” said Caleb. I let the car roll to a stop at the edge of the runway, its nose aimed at the compound. Arnaldo circled around and landed once more on the Beemer’s roof. It rocked slightly as he shifted his weight.

  “It’s been over eight hours since the battle at school,” I said. “So everyone should have at least one more shift in them. Keep that in mind in case you get injured and need to heal. November, you ready?”

  November squeaked, then climbed, upside down, along the seam where the car’s roof joined the side to poke her head up through the open moonroof. Arnaldo gingerly lifted one razor-tipped foot as she scuttled underneath him. He grasped her firmly around her plump middle, careful not to poke her. She lifted her head and chirped up at him. I couldn’t help thinking she was saying that if he dropped her, she’d kill him. He looked down and cawed three descending notes that sounded like a laugh.

  “The cameras are aimed at the ground, so you probably won’t be spotted,” said Caleb, turning in his seat so he could stare up through the roof at them. “But just in case they’ve changed that, be quick.”

  Arnaldo fixed one fierce eye on Caleb and squawked once, fluttering his wings to keep his balance.

  I reached up and stroked November on the top of her head. “You’re a badass rodent,” I said.

  She chirped fiercely, as if to say, “You know it.”

  I met Arnaldo’s eye, bright as the moon above his cruel yellow beak. London pushed her pointed snout past the backs of the front seats and gave a yip, her icy blue eyes also glinting up at them. “See you soon, Arnaldo,” I said.

  He bounded into the sky, the wind from his wings pushing my hair back. I pulled myself up through the moonroof to watch them go. Caleb opened his door and got out to do the same. To my night eyes, the moonlight turned Arnaldo’s brown feathers into a silvered black, except for his shining snowy head and tail. His wings cut shapes out of the spattered stars slowly paling next to the rising moon.

  It didn’t take the eagle long to cross the hundreds of yards to the sleeping compound. “He’s nearing the roof of the warehouse,” I said, tracking his now-tiny form against the sky. “He’s dipping down. . . .”

  I lost sight of him against the silhouette of the building. We all waited in silence; then I caught a faint movement. Arnaldo, airborne again. “He must’ve dropped November off.”

  “It’ll take her a few minutes to find a way inside,” Caleb said. “And then a few more minutes to figure out how to disable the generator. We’ve just got to be patient.” His voice was more on edge than I’d ever heard, like he was trying to persuade himself as much as me and London. He walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. “Time to get started.”

  My heart thumped faster as I got out of the car and joined him at the trunk. London followed. We looked down at the brace, lying there like a broken alabaster statue against the black interior. “This is going to be a tough one,” Caleb said. “I think I should call this forth now, so I have a minute or two to recover before we head into the compound.”

  I nodded. London cocked her head at me. I swallowed hard. “That’s my back brace,” I said. “Caleb says it’s got a powerful shadow that we might need.”

  Her doglike eyebrows lifted at me; then she backed up a step, giving us room. I felt a little better. It was hard to have her see the brace, but she had, and maybe it wasn’t such a big deal.

  “Okay, here goes,” said Caleb, rubbing his hands together.

  He found a deep note and hummed it, staring down at the brace. I couldn’t look at it for a second, because it felt so peculiar to be he
re, doing this. The note grew colder and somehow nebulous, as if made of air and ice rather than sound. I rubbed my arms, feeling the chill, and watched rings of gold form around the black depths of his eyes.

  Caleb pointed at it. “I call on you,” he droned. “Come forth from shadow!” A black ray shot from his pointing finger and struck the brace. It winked in and out, as if an invisible hand wanted to pull it behind a curtain I could not see. Then it was gone.

  Lying in its place lay a wide black belt with a buckle made of tortoiseshell. A pointed scabbard made of thick woven leather was slung on it. I blinked, trying to make sense of what I saw. Caleb picked it up with care and slid away the stiff leather scabbard to reveal a long, wicked knife, blacker than any black I’d ever seen. Even the moonlight streaming down on it didn’t reflect in the surface of its blade. Its edges were amorphous instead of sharp, as if made of darkest smoke, and the hilt was smooth-grained wood, carved into the shape of some mythic beast with wings, whiskers, pointed ears, and a snarling snout. A sudden longing to hold it gripped me, as if it had belonged to me once, long ago.

  It had been the brace, and the brace had been made especially to fit my body. Had this dagger been made for me too?

  “This is yours,” said Caleb, echoing my thoughts. He slid the knife back into the scabbard and unbuckled the belt. A few feet away, I saw London’s nose twitching, her eyes fixed on it.

  The belt was made of some sort of silk, glossy and smooth to the touch. I looped it around my back and slid the end through the buckle. In one move, it was fastened, draped around my waist. I waited to feel the weight of it, for it to somehow echo the clamped-down pinch of the brace. But the wide silk rested lightly, lying exactly where, under my clothes, the purple bruises from the brace still stood.

  Something dark and happy flooded through me. I closed my fingers around the carved hilt and my burned hand cooled, as if plunged into ice. It felt marvelous. Then I drew the knife forth, staring in wonder at the murky edge of the blade.

  “Try it on something,” said Caleb. He looked a bit pale, but his eyes, still glowing gold, were lit with excitement. “Here.” He reached into the trunk and pulled out the tennis racquet of Lazar’s that had been lying there since we’d stolen the Beemer. He held the racquet by the handle and extended it toward me. I touched the opaque tip of the knife against the racquet’s rim. The lightweight metal parted instantly beneath the blade, offering no resistance.

  “Wow,” I said, then turned and tried the blade on the lip of the BMW’s trunk. Again, the knife cut through it with only the barest pressure from my hand.

  “Hmm.” Caleb frowned in thought. “Try this.” He held up the bottom edge of his coat. “It’s wool.”

  “If it can cut through metal, it can cut through wool,” I said.

  “Then why is the scabbard made of leather? And the handle’s made of wood. Just try it.”

  I didn’t understand where he was going with this, but I slid the blade over the bottom half inch of his coat. It didn’t cut so much as a thread. I pressed harder, but the cloth stood against it as if made of diamond rather than sheep hair.

  “Just as I thought. Watch.” Caleb reached out and tapped the hazy blade with his pinky. I gasped, drawing the knife back, fearing a bloody cut, or even a severed finger. But Caleb held up his hand, smiling. His finger was unhurt.

  “It won’t cut anything alive, or that which was once alive,” he said. “But I bet you it could cut through the strongest plastic, the toughest Kevlar, or any rock or metal on earth.” His eyes met mine, now fully black once more, satisfied and thrilled.

  “It feels good in my hand,” I said. “The Shadow Blade.”

  “The Shadow Blade.” He nodded. “I don’t know how long it will stay in this form, but I think we might be ready for the Tribunal at last.”

  I sheathed the blade, and we went back to the car. I tried not to drum my fingers on the roof as I stood craning my neck. Occasionally I saw Arnaldo again, circling far above. Nothing else in the compound moved.

  Inside that warehouse, Siku lay prisoner in a silver cage. Any minute now, November would be inside, heading for the generator. If she succeeded, our next signal would be the lights going out. Then we’d be able to do something other than wait while our friends were in danger.

  London stuck her head out of the window, paws on the sill, thrust her head back, and uttered a soft, high-pitched howl of impatience. Or perhaps she was praying to the moon, hovering a handspan above the horizon. Goose bumps rose across my arms at the haunting sound. I gripped the pommel of the Shadow Blade and felt a hunger to draw it forth.

  The compound plunged into darkness.

  My heart lurched into my throat as I thumped down into the driver’s seat. I looked over at Caleb, and our eyes locked. A reckless half smile touched his lips, and an answering rush of excitement flooded through me.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  I shoved the car into gear and gunned it for the parking lot.

  CHAPTER 24

  The BMW bounced like a covered wagon across the unpaved desert as I pushed the speedometer past fifty. Using my less-burned left hand, I swerved to avoid a pile of rocks, then hauled the wheel around again. Ahead in the Tribunal compound, a man in white walked out of the office, looking around the darkened buildings. A woman in white stepped out of the laboratory and yelled something to him. They walked toward each other, gesturing, as we closed in.

  A hundred yards from the parking lot. Fifty. Both people turned toward us. The sound of the engine must have reached them. They didn’t look alarmed yet. They had no idea who was in the car.

  Twenty yards, ten . . .

  Bang! Something exploded nearby.

  We all ducked. The car tilted abruptly to the right. We’d blown a tire. London skittered sideways in the backseat, slamming against the right side panel. We hit the parking lot, scraping along on the rim of the right front wheel. I stomped on the brake and we veered to the left, skidding around nearly one hundred eighty degrees, and came to a halt.

  Voices shouted. Caleb was out of the car before I blinked. London leapt through her window in a graceful arc and vanished into the darkness.

  I stayed low and crawled over to Caleb’s side of the car, toward his open door. We’d agreed I’d stay back at first, since I had only a knife and was unable to shift and heal myself if bullets flew. Just the act of bending over inside that car flashed me back to the first time I’d struggled over those seats, impeded by the brace. This time I wasn’t running away.

  “Who are you?” a man yelled.

  Their footsteps approached. Caleb crunched over the packed dirt toward them. I poked my head out of the open passenger side door.

  Caleb was walking away from me, his black coat flapping. A man and woman in white jeans and button-down shirts stood facing him. The woman had her hand on a pistol at her belt. The man held a rifle.

  Caleb reached one hand into the duffle bag he’d slung over his shoulder. “We’ve come for Siku, the bear-shifter,” Caleb said in a commanding tone that left no room for disagreement. “Hand him over to us now, and we won’t harm you.”

  “It’s Caleb!” the man shouted, aiming his rifle at Caleb’s head. Of course they knew him. “Sound the alarm!”

  Caleb let loose a ringing laugh. “I think you’ll find the alarms don’t work without electricity.”

  The woman was looking around in apprehension. “Something else jumped out of the car,” she said. “Something with four legs.”

  “Just get Ximon and Enoch,” the man said, still sighting on Caleb. “Now!”

  Caleb took out the empty plastic water bottle I’d noticed the other day in his duffle bag. The man with the rifle, now less than ten feet away, frowned, confused, as Caleb began to unscrew the blue cap. The woman turned toward the laboratory building. Was that where Ximon was? Or Enoch? But before she could take a single running step, London bounded out of the darkness and slammed into her.

  The woman shrieked and
went sprawling. The man with the rifle startled, and exactly then Caleb removed the top of the water bottle, pointed the open end at the man, and intoned a low, buzzing noise.

  Under the moon, the bottle turned black. The man jerked the end of his gun toward Caleb as a droning stream of tiny objects shot out of the bottle. The man swatted one hand in front of his face, then twitched and dropped his rifle with a horrified cry as a churning cloud of insects swallowed him. I winced and felt a pang of pity. Through the swirling haze of insects I could just see his white outline, jerking and slapping. Even if he were the most trained objurer, he was going to have trouble concentrating long enough to send the creatures back into shadow.

  The woman was still on the ground, whimpering as she crawled backward on her hands and heels. London, fur tipped silver in the moonlight, growled menacingly at her. We’d talked about trying to hurt as few people as possible, so London hadn’t yet torn the woman’s throat out. But it was anyone’s guess how long she’d hold off.

  I got out of the car, circling around the swarm. Inside the haze the guttural cries were growing fainter.

  “Much sneakier to use bugs instead of lightning,” I said, coming to Caleb’s side.

  “I only have two more leaves from the lightning tree,” said Caleb, pulling out the saltshaker. “And I have to save one to set the fuel on fire.”

  “Let’s goo her up.” Then I remembered that the Beemer was shot and we needed a way out of here. “No, wait!” I put a hand on his arm. Caleb frowned at me, questioning, but drew the shaker back.

  The woman tried to shy away from me as I reached down to her, but London gave a vicious growl and shoved her snarling face into the woman’s. She collapsed on the ground, flat, her face pale and sweating. I patted her down, aiming for her pockets and came up with a fistful of keys. “We need a new car,” I said.

  “Good thinking,” Caleb said, then held the saltshaker out over the objurer as London backed off. He gave the woman a hard smile. “I’m doing this because I have to. Not because you always treated me like trash.”