by Devon Hughes
“And a lisp . . . ,” she complained, though to Castor, her speech sounded nearly perfect.
“Didn’t you want to change, though?” Castor said as gently as possible, but he was getting a little impatient. It seemed like Enza didn’t want to be comforted; she just wanted to feel sorry for herself. “I mean, I thought you came to NuFormz on purpose.”
“Sort of.” Enza shrugged. “In the big-cat exhibit, I was the only tiger. The other cats were always talking about how Laringo had made it big, teasing me and asking why I wasn’t famous yet. Laringo’s face was on the plastic cups from the zoo food stand. He didn’t even come from the zoo, though—I’m pretty sure he was raised in the circus or the lab. I’d never met one of my own kind before. I lived with the other cats but never really had a pack like you. Somehow, Laringo’s fame made him feel like I knew him. Like I was connected to something.”
Enza finally turned from the corner, shifting her weight so she could look at Castor. She scooted closer to their shared wall and he leaned forward to hear the story.
“We didn’t get very many visitors because we weren’t as cool to kids as the mutants, but sometimes we’d get school groups. And sometimes, if the children were big Unnaturals fans, the zookeepers would point at me and say that I could be the next Laringo. I liked that—the other cats called me ‘Hippo Butt’ and stole my territory, but someone thought I could be a champion!”
Enza’s eyes shined at the memory.
“So one day, when the zookeeper got to that part of the tour, I played along.”
“That’s when you scratched the girl?”
“All I really did was snarl,” Enza scoffed, but when she looked at him, her eyes were earnest. “And it was just pretend, Castor, like we’ve been doing in training. Mimicking Laringo.”
Castor thought of Enza that first day in the cages, before they’d transformed. All catty confidence and extra swagger, he’d thought she was an alpha for sure. But maybe the tough tigress had been an act all along.
“I believe you.”
“Yeah, well, the teacher didn’t,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “She threw a tantrum and I ended up here. Where there’s no fresh meat, no fake grass or hollow boulders to stretch out on, no zookeepers to toss balls of yarn for you to play with. . . .”
The zoo wasn’t exactly sounding like the awful place she’d hinted at. Castor was getting the picture now.
“I thought I’d at least have a friend in here.”
Castor cocked his head at the slight. Was he not sitting here in the middle of the night, trying to cheer her up?
“I thought that with Laringo, I could meet another tiger. That I really could be a champion. But he hates me.” Her shoulders started to shake again, and the tears returned. “And he’s probably gonna kill me in the match tomorrow. I’m just this weak teddy bear and—”
Castor guffawed, and Enza’s puffy eyes narrowed.
“How is this funny?”
“I’m sorry, Enza,” Castor said. “But you are the last thing in the world from a teddy bear. Trust me, you’re terrifying.”
“Really?” Enza sniffled, a hopeful lilt in her voice.
“Oh, yeah. That first day I saw you, I thought you were going to bust right through the bars and tear me in half.”
Enza cracked a small smile, and Castor took her silence as his cue to go on.
“And you know everything about hunting and pouncing—I’ve seen you train our whole team—so just because you have brown fur instead of stripes doesn’t make you any less of a tiger than Laringo. Did you see those dead eyes? He’s probably half robot.”
Enza snickered in agreement. “He’s basically an automopooch.”
“Only he’s way less fun than the posters promised,” Castor pointed out. “Someone should ask for their money back.”
The grizzly was laughing hard now, and she slapped her bear paw against the back wall to steady herself. She must’ve hit it full force, though—it sounded like the cement was crumbling.
“Uh-oh,” Enza said ominously.
“What?”
“The, um, door opened.”
This wasn’t news. Doors were always opening and closing around here, but Castor didn’t realize they’d been talking so far into the night. “Is it time for morning slop already?”
“No. Not the Slop door or the Pit door, or even the Dome door. It’s the last door.”
“The one that’s cemented shut?”
Castor was on his feet now. Nose pressed up against the glass, he strained to see the place Enza was gesturing at, but there was too much of a reflection, and it was hidden in shadow. Enza was walking back to her corner now, away from the strange open door.
“You’re not going to check it out?” Castor was aghast.
She shook her head and settled back onto her bed. “Not unless some Whistler makes me. It’s dark. And scary. And probably sealed for a reason.”
“What if it could take you away from Laringo?”
“And what if it leads to something worse?”
Castor had an identical door in his room, still sealed up tight. If it were to open, he definitely couldn’t resist exploring. But Enza knew about regret better than he did, and she was right about one thing—none of the other tunnels had led anywhere good.
“We should probably get some sleep, then,” Castor said, knowing how unlikely that was—he’d be craning his head at the mystery door all night. He flopped down onto the shredded remains of his blue mat, anyway, and sighed. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah . . .” Back in her corner, Enza’s voice sounded small. “Would your friend have any tips for me when I fight Laringo?”
“My friend?” Castor asked, hearing the guilt in his voice.
“The old one. I hear you talking sometimes,” she explained. “Don’t worry—I won’t say anything.”
Castor was torn. Pookie had explicitly told him to keep his existence a secret. But Enza needed his help. Without specifically mentioning Pookie, he repeated the first thing his mentor had taught him, the truest thing. “Remember who you are,” he told her. “It worked for me.”
36
“WELCOME BACK, MONIACS! WE’RE ALREADY UP TO THE second week in our newest unnnnbelievable Unnaturals season!” Castor heard the announcer’s voice echo.
He took slow, shallow breaths, inhaling the musky scent of burlap and trying not to overheat. It was just like before—the jostling by the handlers, the sack over his head, the dull roar of the crowd as the elevator eased to a stop—and Castor was having a hard time not having a panic attack when he thought about his fight with Deja.
But this was going to be different. This time, a friendly face awaited him on the other side of the door.
“Next up, get ready for a flight to remember and an elephant who never forgets! The Underdog, one of Team Scratch’s newest additions, is here to take on the towering Enforcer!”
The muffled announcement was his cue, and Castor got into position. He stepped back with his right legs for balance and readied himself into a crouch. Muscles quivering with tension, he waited for the signal. The doors swung open and his blindfold was torn off; the bell dinged . . .
And Castor froze.
They’d gone over this. They’d rehearsed the routine all day yesterday, so he’d know exactly what to expect. He was supposed to spring forward into the Dome, fierce and wild and looking every bit like the valiant fighter he had been on the dock that day in Lion’s Head.
But when he heard that bell, Castor was brought right back to his last match with Deja. He saw flashes of her fangs, a blur of butterfly wings, a flick of the rattle. Her cold, merciless eyes. He’d thought that was going to be a friendly fight, too.
Castor felt a kick at his hindquarters, and a shove from Horace brought him back to the moment.
He wasn’t sure how long ago Samken had thundered out of the opposite gate, but the octo-elephant was rounding past him now, and his friend must’ve seen the look on Castor’
s face, because he gave him a reassuring wink.
Castor let out a breath. It was fake. Just like with Jazlyn. He was safe.
The performance was on.
The big bull elephant stomped around dramatically across the arena, grunting in mock fury. Samken really knew how to work the crowd—by the time he finally started his solo stampede, he had most of them shouting his name.
Now it was Castor’s time to shine.
Samken was about to charge a second time and, just before he hit the eagle-dog, Castor would suddenly take flight and wow them all.
There was just one problem: he’d spent most of yesterday flying as they rehearsed, and though his mind had the routine down pat, his wings appeared to be completely useless. The muscles were sore and stiff from overuse. Of course, Castor didn’t discover this until the very last minute, when Samken was kicking up dust just a few feet away from him.
Instead of wowing the crowd with unexpected flight, they stunned them with a head-on collision.
Castor was more stunned than anyone.
The full force of Samken’s two-ton body had slammed into him and, for a minute or so, he was actually unconscious. When Castor opened his eyes again, three giant heads were hovering over him, and there seemed to be tentacles everywhere. If Castor squinted hard enough, he could make the three elephant heads come together.
“Castor, I’m sooo sorry.” Fat tears were running down Samken’s cheeks. “I didn’t mean to do that at all. I thought you were going to fly, like we talked about! Why didn’t you fly?”
“Tried . . . ,” Castor wheezed. He was so dizzy he felt nauseated. “Can’t . . .”
Then the buzzing sound started. Horace was pushing the red button.
“Don’t—”
Samken’s high voice turned into a gurgle as he was zapped, and Castor could feel the bump on his head pulsing with each charge of his collar. Once it stopped, Samken rolled his eyes, like they were still rattling around in his head.
“Oof. Is that what they meant by ‘singing the body electric’?” Samken groaned. “FAME!” he bellowed. When Castor looked at him blankly, he rolled his eyes. “Didn’t they have music in those sad streets of yours? They did at my zoo. Come on, the fans await!”
A voice asked over the loudspeakers, “Will the Enforcer unleash his tentacled wrath on the Underdog, as he did on the Swift?”
Samken glanced up at the floating announcer woman. “We’d better get moving. Ready, Castor? Let’s try it again, this time just like we rehearsed—I run, you fly.”
Before Castor could even mumble an objection, the octo-elephant took off for a third pass around the arena. Castor felt like he hardly took half a breath before the ground under his feet shook with Samken’s fast-approaching feet.
Castor couldn’t survive another hit, and he couldn’t stand another shock. He needed to get out of this Dome, and there was only one direction he could go. He heard Pookie’s voice telling him, Up!
“Now!” Samken shouted a warning so they wouldn’t crash again.
Ignoring the throbbing in his skull, Castor jumped as high as he could, snapping his wings out to the sides. This time, amazingly, they caught him. He was hovering, then flapping.
He was flying!
But thanks to the bump on his head, Castor couldn’t seem to remember where he was supposed to go. He swooped in awkward circles. He veered to the far edges of the Dome. He nearly crashed into the crowded stands. He might’ve been flying, but he was way off script.
Luckily, Samken was good at improv. Each time Castor careened over him, Samken acted like he was trying to jump up and grab him. And whenever Castor nearly dive-bombed into the sand, Samken kicked his feet up like he was about to be tackled at the knees. The result was a dancing, many-trunked goliath that looked like a circus clown and a flying dog that could’ve been a toy airplane running low on batteries.
The fans might not have been wowed, exactly, but they were laughing like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.
“‘Fame! I’m gonna live forever,’” Samken sang under his breath as the humans stomped their feet on the tinny bleachers and cheered their approval at the end of the match. “‘I’m gonna learn how to fly. . . .’”
The grand finale was Castor spiraling in circles, dodging Samken’s flailing tentacles as the octo-elephant rammed into the arena wall and feigned a knockout.
Though Castor had escaped the Dome mostly unscathed after his match with Samken, he still had an egg-sized bump on his head that needed to be looked at. The medic strapped him to a gurney, but when he rolled him past the holding pen, Castor saw Laringo. He could see the tiger-scorpion’s muscles quivering with tension beneath his stripes. His head was alert, his ice-blue eyes already glued on Team Scratch’s door across the field, searching for his prey.
Castor’s heart skipped a beat.
Enza’s match was about to begin.
As Pete rolled him through a doorway, Castor bucked and barked and wedged his legs in the door so the gurney wouldn’t move.
“Laringo!” he howled, trying to get the scorpion-tiger’s attention from the other side of those high stadium walls.
He’d told Enza to remember who she was, and he wasn’t sure if Laringo could do the same. But to break Laringo’s concentration and give Enza any sort of fighting chance, it was worth a shot.
“Laringo, listen to me!” Castor barked insistently. “You told Enza she didn’t want to be like you, but you can change. Think of the cub you were before the scientists, before the serum. Before the humans made you fight. You can go back to him, you can be the brave beast he would want you to be. You don’t have to do this!”
But then the door closed in front of Castor, and the opportunity was gone. Laringo had to have heard Castor. But Laringo hadn’t even turned his head. His cold, blue-eyed gaze awaited Enza.
37
AS THE INVINCIBLE STEPPED INTO THE RING, LEESA HELD her breath. Last season’s Mash-up was still a touchy subject, and you could feel the tension building in the Dome.
Everyone had been laughing and cheering together during the Underdog’s match against the Enforcer, but now scuffles began in the stands, and howls of excitement had turned into snarls of unrest. Team Scratch and Team Klaw fans alike were out for blood.
That was one thing the Invincible could be counted on to deliver.
Today he was fighting the Fearless, and Leesa was worried about the newbie. Really worried. After seeing the majestic grizzly-tiger close-up, Leesa couldn’t bear to watch her get torn apart.
Though the Fearless and the Invincible were both part tiger, it was by no means an even match. The younger mutant was heavier and stood taller, but the veteran had unrivaled speed and ferociousness, and a formidable track record that included a long list of deceased opponents.
Leesa knew she had the best seats in the house from up on the light post, but right now, she wished she could see less.
“This should be over quick,” Antonio said.
Leesa ignored him. Things had been tense between them since that day in the training center. Lately, he seemed either deliberately cool or like he was trying to find new ways to annoy her. Today he’d brought jalapeño zingers and hadn’t offered her a single one. She didn’t care, though; her stomach felt too queasy from the match, anyway.
The bell sounded, and the Invincible was on the offensive from the very start.
He prowled forward with quick strides, his scorpion tail held high and ready to strike.
Across the arena, the grizzly had crouched her big body low to the ground. At first, it looked like a defensive pose, but as Leesa noticed the tense shoulder muscles, and the way the bear had risen on the balls of her broad hind feet, she realized it was actually an offensive position. The Fearless looked ready to pounce.
“She’s not running away,” Leesa whispered, leaning forward from her perch on the platform as the champion neared the center of the ring.
Almost all the Invincible’s opponents t
ried to evade him for as long as possible, flying or galloping or slithering around the arena until time ran out. Few actually had the guts to face him.
The grizzly-tiger wasn’t just going to hold her ground, either; now she was running to meet him.
“Maybe she really is fearless.”
Beside her, Antonio shrugged. “Either that or just stupid.”
When they clashed in the middle, they looked like two big cats batting at each other’s necks and faces. Instead of playful cuffs, though, long claws tore and tusklike teeth gnashed.
The Fearless stood up on her hind legs, trying to make the most of her height, but it just made it easier for the Invincible to swipe at her middle. The Fearless let out a ferocious grizzly growl, crashing forward onto four legs. The wound was deep—that was obvious from her shorter movements and wincing steps.
The Fearless tried to lash back at the white tiger, but her bulk made her too slow, and he was already behind her, his barbed tail stabbing forward over his head. When the stinger struck her shoulder, the sound the Fearless made this time was more howl than growl. She gnashed her giant saber teeth, but the pain on her face was obvious, and you could almost see her hopeless realization that her height and her sharp teeth were no match for the poison that laced the Invincible’s stinger.
“She can survive,” Leesa said aloud to reassure herself. “Like Pookie.”
“Right . . . ,” Antonio muttered.
“What?” Leesa jerked her gaze away from the dueling Unnaturals to look at him. She’d been so absorbed in the fight she’d forgotten he was even there with her. “Pookie had the guts to face the Invincible, too, and he survived,” she repeated, annoyed. “We both saw that match, and we agreed it looked like he won, actually, no matter what the official call said. Remember?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
Antonio sighed. “I know what we saw.” He ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair, reslicking it. “But it doesn’t matter, Lees. They end up dead in the end, anyway, don’t you see that? All these loaded cloud kids pay good money for it.”
