In Someone Else's Skin

by Margo Bond Collins

  Around the edge of her mouth was a white band striped with black.

  A white-lipped rainbow python.

  I was still overcoming it, the surprise of seeing such a gorgeous member of my own race, when Salara stepped up and executed what could only be described as a deep bow. “Queen Amalya, of clan Lissa,” she began, “I have brought three new prisoners to you.”

  This time, my gasp was one of shock and betrayal.

  Salara glanced around at us triumphantly, her grin wide and unrepentant. “And they have two lamia infants.”

  The queen lamia instantly shifted, her body melting and reforming more quickly than I had ever managed, and I couldn’t help but watch in slack-jawed wonder at how amazing she was. How beautiful.

  How deadly. How cold.

  Once she’d finished her transformation, the lamia leader gazed down at us while human servants brought in a black, shimmering robe to wrap around her.

  Even in human form, she was stunning. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back in a mass of curls that almost seemed to move of their own accord, and her eyes glowed a bright emerald.

  When she finally spoke, it was in a hiss full of underlying sibilants. “You don’t belong here.” She waved her hand. “Guards, arrest them.”

  Chapter 5

  I was horrified at the idea of having fallen into a nest of vipers.

  Shane, on the other hand, was thrilled. “Your majesty,” he began, his voice thrumming with undertones of wonder.

  “Silence the human,” the queen ordered in a bored tone—but underneath the tone, she watched me avidly for my response.

  The two guards on either side of the dais moved toward Shane, who put his hands up in surrender and stood passively as they took hold of his arms.

  Every muscle in my body tensed up as I prepared to shift, hoping to fight off the guards who just been ordered to arrest us.

  Until I heard the queen’s next words.

  “Take the prisoners and put them with the other one.”

  The other one?

  I ran back over the events of the last day. For some reason, I had assumed that the portal between worlds had taken the werewolf and the kidnapped lamia baby to some world other than this one.

  After all, the portal seemed to flip through possible worlds like a television switching channels.

  But maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe the werewolf had ended up right here in this world along with us.

  It didn’t seem likely that would happen by chance—but nothing that was going on seemed to be happening exactly by chance. The more I learned about magic, especially my own, the more convinced I became that even when I didn’t realize I was doing it, I was somehow controlling the outcome of dealing with the portals I created.

  All of that flashed through my mind in a heartbeat as I froze.

  I didn’t want to be arrested in this strange world. But we were surrounded by other lamias, many of whom were probably as strong as I was—or maybe even stronger. I needed to stand down. We all did.

  I glanced from side to side, finding Coit and Shane both ready to fight if necessary.

  “Don’t.”

  My one word was enough to get their attention. I saw the moment when they relaxed.

  In the end, we all stood perfectly still as the guards surrounded us and snapped some kind of cuffs on our wrists. They felt like metal and looked like manacles I had seen in old pictures of prisoners from a hundred years ago or more.

  But when the guard placed them on my wrists, I nearly fell to my knees.

  Something horrible flowed through me, like an unseen poison sapping my strength.

  These were designed to curtail my ability to use magic, I realized.

  The sudden loss made me sick to my stomach.

  The lamia standing on the dais saw when it happened, too. Absolute delight at my inability to fight against her or her guards flashed across her face, twisting my stomach further.

  I couldn’t help but twitch when they pulled the babies from me, uncoiling them from my neck.

  I will find you again, I promised them silently.

  The queen, Amalya, held out her arm for the infants to be transferred to her. I’d spent enough time as a counselor to recognize her expression.

  I’d seen it before on people who believed they owned someone else. The smug husband who beat his wife. The parent who didn’t give a child room to grow.

  Never before had I seen it so clearly, though.

  The ruler who owned her subjects.

  Triumph and self-satisfied cruelty twined together in her face as the infants slid up and down her arms, exploring this new person, their uncertainty reflected in their inability to coil around her and settle down.

  The guards who let us away were both in human form. I wondered briefly if the nullifying effects of the cuffs I was in extended beyond me. Did the guards have to be in human shape in order to deal with them?

  They each held a long stick. The guard behind me reached out and tapped me in the middle of the back with this world’s version of a cattle prod. The shock of it buzzed through my system, and I stumbled at the sharp pain.

  “Get moving,” the guard said.

  I followed his instruction, but I turned to watch the Queen as I stumbled out of the room.

  Her slow, wide grin looked absolutely evil.

  “You should follow their instructions,” she said, raising one eyebrow. “My guards have my absolute confidence. I won’t question their actions—no matter what they have to do to get you to obey.”

  The last thing I saw, craning my head around as the guards shoved us out of the room and back down the hall, was the cruel twist of Queen Amalya’s smirk and the glint in her eyes as she watched us go.

  I turned and watched the Queen all the way out the door. Her expression stayed aloof, slightly amused.

  I half hoped that she saw in my eyes the vengeance I was already planning to take upon her.

  THE GUARDS LED US BACK down the winding body of the building, all the way to the end. There, we stepped into what turned out to be an elevator. It took us down—the lamias in this world might not build up very high, but they did build downward, into the ground. We exited in a space that mimicked the one above, a serpent-shaped building. But this one had locked doors in between segments. I was reminded of mental hospitals where I had visited clients, with their multiple layers of security, making escape difficult.

  Getting out of here was seeming less and less likely.

  This floor was different too, in that the walls were not decorated with beautiful mosaics, though also tiled. These tiles, though, were smooth and plain.

  I guess it made sense for them to build down for a dungeon—after all, even if we broke through a wall, it was much more difficult to dig through dirt and rock to get to the surface than would be to jump down to the ground from a higher level.

  All the same reasons that people had been building dungeons on my world for centuries.

  And now we were going to have to arrange a prison break.

  All the way to the cells, I kept repeating a list of things that needed to happen.

  One. Break out of lamia prison.

  Two. Get rid of magic cuffs.

  Three. Find the lamia babies.

  Four. Take the lamia babies back.

  Five. Get out of lamia stronghold.

  Six. Escape back to my earth.

  It was looking more and more daunting the longer I considered it.

  And when we got to the level with the cells, I realized there was another item to add.

  Seven. Kill the werewolf who had kidnapped the baby.

  The cells themselves were small spaces with totally clear walls made of something like plastic. Inside, they held a plastic pole from floor to ceiling that appeared to be of a single piece with the walls—probably for lamia prisoners to coil around. A small water fountain bubbled up from the floor in one corner and in the other were what looked like toilet facilities—little more than a hole
in the ground with a molded plastic seat. A long bench, again molded from the same materials as the walls, stretched along the back wall, presumably for human forms, with a stack of bedding.

  The three of us were ushered into separate cells.

  Mine was next to the one that held the werewolf, currently in his human form—presumably barred from shifting by the same magic that held my own shift at bay.

  I had been right. It was the same man who had jumped through to another dimension holding one of the other newborn lamia babies.

  One of my babies.

  I hissed at him, despite my inability to shift. He responded in kind, showing his teeth in a creditable imitation of his wolf’s snarl. I held his gaze for a long moment before I said quietly, “Why did you take the infant?”

  “We don’t want your kind in our world.”

  “So your plan all along was to dump them on some other world?”

  He laughed, the sound echoing hollowly through the prison dungeon. “Hell, no. We’re going to raise them to fight against any more of your kind that show up.”

  Chapter 6

  My anger bubbled up inside me, fighting against the magic cuffs that held my shift at bay. “So really, you don’t want any lamias on your world—unless they’re under your control. That’s what you really mean.”

  The wolf’s snarl mirrored my own. “Sounds about right.”

  “Man, that’s all kinds of fucked up,” Coit drawled from where he sat on the plastic bench in his own cell across from the wolf’s.

  In a cell across from mine, Shane was busy examining the room for potential weak points.

  Deliberately, I turned my back on the werewolf.

  “Find anything?” I asked Shane quietly.

  He shrugged. “Not really. Looks like the whole thing was manufactured as one piece and dropped down in here. The doors seem to be the only point of weakness.”

  I took the three steps over to my own door and examined it.

  It swung on hinges made of the same thick, clear plastic material. But unlike the rest of the cell, it had to have been attached separately.

  I didn’t know how that might help us, but I logged every detail into my memory, hoping it might come in handy later.

  We have to get out of here.

  No. Getting out of the cell would have to be a secondary consideration.

  Getting out of the cuffs needed to come first.

  “Shane,” I called out, keeping my voice low to try to avoid drawing attention from anyone who might be nearby—though I didn’t know enough about this world to be able to tell if they might have electronic surveillance on us.

  “Hm?” The herpetology grad student responded absently, still absorbed in examining the hinges in his own cell.

  “What can you tell me about the cuffs?”

  He glanced up sharply. “Is there something special about them?”

  I flicked a glance toward the werewolf, who wasn’t looking at us—but something about his posture made me think of an animal with its ears pricked up in interest. He was definitely listening to us.

  “They’re dampening my ability to shift,” I finally responded.

  “Coit, come over here,” Shane called the other human to the clear wall dividing them. “Turn around so I can see your hands.”

  Coit dutifully stepped up and turned his back against the wall, pressing his cuffed hands toward Shane, who stooped low to check them closely.

  “Some kind of metal. Cuffs connected by a small bar. Looks like a standard kind of keyhole.” He squinted, peering to get a better look at something. “Some kind of symbol etched into the metal over the locking mechanism. Nothing I recognize.” He straightened, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it might mean, though.”

  “It’s a magical symbol.” The werewolf’s gruff voice was close enough to me that I jumped when he spoke. “Designed to suppress magic use once the cuffs are locked.”

  “So once they’re unlocked, that won’t be in effect?” I glanced at the werewolf, fighting the urge to snarl again.

  “It shouldn’t be.” The werewolf opened his mouth as if about to say something, then thought better of it and retreated back to his seat on the shelf. I took the opportunity to examine him a bit more closely. If I hadn’t wanted to eviscerate him for kidnapping my adoptive child, I might have thought he was good looking—dark hair, pale skin, ice-blue eyes.

  He glanced up and caught me looking.

  “You know,” he said, “we might be able to help each other escape.”

  This time I did let the snarl go. “Why the hell would I work with you? You and your people are the reason we’re here in the first place.”

  He shrugged, blankness descending over his expression like a wall dropping down. “Let me know if you change your mind. A temporary truce could be useful for both of us.”

  I turned away from him once again, ostensibly to go back to examining the hinges on the cell door.

  But I couldn’t quit thinking about what he’d said.

  A temporary truce.

  Could I use him to get out of here?

  And once I was free, what then?

  Kill him?

  Take him back so the Council could deal with him?

  That thought reminded me that Janice, the Council leader, was dead. Had this guy been involved in killing her? Her death had been gruesome, the werewolves who’d attacked her leaving her disembodied head atop a pile of bodies.

  No. I couldn’t let this guy help us. Not if he’d been involved in that.

  Could I?

  THREE HOURS LATER, I was ready to try anything. Even allowing the kidnapping, killer werewolf dude join us in our escape attempt.

  Doing nothing but sitting in a clear plastic cage was beginning to drive me insane.

  “Beginning?” Shane muttered when I finally threw my hands up in despair and announced this.

  “Hey,” I warned. “Be careful, or I’ll leave you behind when I get out of here.”

  “Okay, okay.” Shane grinned at me. “You’re in the early stages of insanity. That’s all.”

  Insanity. Fine. I could use that as my excuse. I turned to the werewolf, looking at him directly for the first time since I’d dismissed his suggestion of a truce. “How could you help us escape?”

  He quickly quashed a pleased grin, schooling his expression into something more serious. “You said the cuffs were dampening your ability to shift?”

  “Yeah,” I responded warily.

  “Well...” He let his voice trail off as he stood, turned around so I could see his cuffed hands, and flexed his fingers.

  When long claws popped out of his fingertips, I gasped. “Are the cuffs not stopping you from shifting?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, his grin in full force. “Not at all.”

  “Seriously? You can still shift?” Surprise suffused my voice. I had always assumed that all shifters used the same kind of magic—or whatever it was that allowed us to shift.

  But apparently here, lamias and wolves were different.

  Or maybe we were different everywhere.

  “Yes, I can.” The wolf gave a shrug.

  “And why haven’t you?” Shane asked suspiciously.

  “Where am I going to go—even if I could escape, just me against a whole building full of snakes? Not to mention whatever snake shifters are outside.”

  “Werewolves,” Coit muttered. “Bunch of A-holes.”

  I tossed a glance Coit’s direction, but he wasn’t looking at me.

  “Do you have a plan?” I asked, turning my attention back to the wolf.

  The werewolf turned his icy blue stare on me. “I would get us all out of these cages and unlock your cuffs, and then we could get the hell out of here.”

  Okay. So it wasn’t much as far as plans go. But it was more than I had.

  Maybe I needed to seriously consider his suggestion.

  Chapter 7

  “What about the babies?” I gave him a hard, level stare.


  “The lamia young? I have no idea where they are.”

  Neither did I. That, more than anything, frightened me. “Do you have any idea why the queen wanted them? Other than the fact that they are also lamias, I mean.”

  “There’s a shortage of young in this world.”

  I blinked. “A shortage? As in there aren’t very many babies being born?”

  He nodded shortly.

  “Why do you think that?” I found myself standing with my palms pressed against the clear wall that divided us.

  He captured my gaze with his, leaning toward me. “Because the woman who brought me to the queen told me so.”

  That would make sense—Queen Amalya had been pretty intent on getting the babies, and come to think of it, Salara had seemed awfully interested in them, as well.

  “We’ve seen the garage, the queen’s chamber, and this level,” I said. “What about you? Do you know of anyplace else in this building?”

  “There’s a garage? With cars?” He waited for my confirming nod before murmuring, “That could be helpful.”

  He hadn’t answered my question. I took it as evidence that he knew no more than we did. “What’s your name?”

  “Grant.”

  “Okay, Grant. I’ll make you a deal. We all help each other get out of here. But once we’re free and away from this building, you’re on your own. If we can find them, I get to take the babies.”

  “No.” The werewolf shook his head. “You’re headed back through one of those portals, right? I get to go home, too. You take the lamia young but take me back to our world. Then we go our separate ways.”

  Coit and Shane watched us avidly but didn’t make any suggestions.

  “We get out of the cells, we save the babies, I get us back to our world, and you tell us everything you know about the wolf pack’s plans for me and my friends and the babies,” I countered. “Then we go our separate ways.”

  The werewolf’s mouth quirked up in a grin, clearly enjoying the negotiations. “After that, all bets are off.”

  “No—you promise not to come after me or mine.” I had to keep the infants safe until they could protect themselves.